Uplifted: Integration
by DarkDanny
Summary: With a Galactic Crusade on the horizon and a return back to the galaxy imminent, these are the final years of peace before the Quarian people crawl out of their exile and begin their long march across the Council Space with the aid of the Reich and with one destination on their mind: Home. God forgive anyone who stands in their way, because the children of Rannoch will not.
1. Adam Ackerson

**Chapter One: Adam Ackerson**

**...**

_**The Konigsberg Journal October 3**__**rd**__**, 1998**_

_**Point Zero Training Operation Underway Despite Europe-Wide Protests**_

_**By Selene Göbel**_

_Representatives within the Raumstreitflotte High Command have announced a series of cooperative naval drills with the Quarian Navy in preparation for the long promised war against the geth. Among them shall be delegates from the ten nations of the German led European Union as well as from the Republic of China and the Russian Federation._

"_The coming war cannot be decided on the sacrifice of the German and Quarian peoples alone," said Representative of the Kreismarine Kurt von Knispel. "Nations who have directly benefited from the technological progress offered by the quarians and the physical protection of the German State from both the Fascist Union of Nations and the Soviet Union must be held accountable to the debts they owe. We welcome their enthusiastic offer to join our grand struggle. It was an offer that was not only voluntarily, but with open arms, out of respect to our quarian cousins..."_

_The announcement of foreign national delegates sparked outrage and protests across Europe –most notably in Brussels, Paris, Amsterdam, Copenhagen and Prague, where demonstrators have taken to the streets in the tens of thousands, shouting anti-Reich slogans. A total of nine hundred protestors have been arrested and residents of the nations in question are tonight living in fear of potential German retaliation for the inflammatory actions._

_The fear, however, appears to be unfounded. The Reich has its own issues to handle. Voice For All – a far leftist group dedicated to the belief in the so-called sentience of artificial life, as well as the fear that the coming conflict against the geth would be extermination unseen since the days of Hitler. Although their message is muddled from no one coherent overlaying message, one of their professed fears is one that many can to relate to: What if the offensive fails?_

_With the coming of the new millennium approaching, and the march to armed conflict against the geth drawing ever closer, Voice for All and every other conscientious objector to the Vow has been out in force themselves, resulting in thousands of cases of civil disobedience, riots, sit-in's and horrendous attempts at protest music. Frankly, they could have used a lesson or two in protest music from the likes of Bob Dylan, John Lennon and Marvin Gaye._

_But regardless of their musical prowess, they are in many ways Germany's answer to the American peace movement during the 1960's. They protest whatever that can be construed as a war making investment. As such very few leaders of industry are spared. As such they are praised in the intellectual circles and the anti-quarian groups spread out all over the world as promoters as peace. However their actions have been labelled by military men as a culture of entitlement, stemming from a lack of existential crisis caused by warfare since 1970, when the Soviets declared the third Soviet-German War. Some view the youth movements that have popped up since the 1980's as barely veiled racial hatred to the quarian people, whose people were very nearly destroyed at the hands of the machines they defend…_

"Shall I refresh your drink, sir?"

Looking up from his datapad, Adam Ackerson offered the bartender a smile and nod before he returned back to digital newspaper.

This probably wasn't quite what Joachim Hoch meant when he came over to the guest house on his property, in which Adam lived in so that he could be close to the family, and told him flat out that he thought that he had become a rather dull sight to behold whenever the personal physician and physical trainer was keeping an eye on him and Hanala.

In the end, Joachim all but used whatever authority the 80 year old had left to command him out of the house and take some time off for him… the keyword being _him. _Rarely did Adam find the time to do this sort of thing. It was sort of impossible when you were placed in the position of both Father and Mother to a daughter of five years of age. Personal time more or less meant he would be drinking juice and playing with dolls, playing sports, spending time with Amala's little friends or trying to keep video games.

Now there wasn't anything wrong with the domestic lifestyle, which he was living these days. Adam loved his child, and knew that there was nothing in the world that could possibly convince him to trade it for a return back to the strings-free life he once had. It was just that… well… on occasion he had to admit it felt a little… _redundant_… on occasion. Sometimes the lack of personal time became grating, and the social collapse was depressing, not just to him, but to his friends. Adam knew it must have been bad is a socially stunted, racist (he was getting better apparently, but goddamn, if what he was now was considered _better_ then it must have been astoundingly frightful in his youth), pigheadedly stubborn as Joachim Hoch was telling him to take the night off, then Adam knew it must have been bad.

"_With the fiftieth anniversary of Victory Day two weeks away, the final preparations for the ceremonies are well underway,"_ he heard the holoprojection of the news anchors speak from the view screen in the bar. _"It is expected that a record number of attendants will mark the event. 2.7 million Germans, sixty thousand quarians and 37 million Russians were killed in the three separate conflicts between 1941 and 1974…"_

Adam tuned out the broadcast as he focused on his drink again. The truth was, Adam really only had one love left in his life – Amala. He doted on her, or at least that what he self-diagnosed it as. That doting sort of came with the territory of being a single parent to be honest. With his family in Vancouver, Canada and Amala's grandparents in the United Kingdom, both were nations with severe travel restrictions against German citizenry still. With that being the case, Amala ended up being the only family he had left these days.

Since… since Alexandria left two years, the Hoch family really stood up to fill the void left in her wake. Joachim and Hanala were like parents who truly understood him. They did not judge his decision to abandon North America and his blood to come back to the Fatherland. They instead honoured his choice. Each of them a separate personality, different motivations yet in a rare moment of solidarity, supported him.

First there was Generalmajor Jochen von Hoch. Both he and his family were another rock that he never imagined to have had. Adam supposed it came from his own service to the Heer that gave the first Prussian nobleman in the Hoch family a spot in his heart. Most men Adam's age were conscripted, as were ethnic Germanic citizens attempting to make a life in the Reich. Adam was ethnic German and a volunteer. It made Jochen von Hoch very agreeable with him. With six children and an aristocratic wife named Constanze von Stauffenberg, the Von Hoch's served as a real backbone to the future of the family. They intended on shedding the National Socialist image built by Joachim Hoch.

Erika'Lautari nee Hoch was the closest thing to a maternal figure that Amala had in the world these days. Erika could do and say things that Adam simply lacked the courage to do. Like Adam, she too had been married. She had married a quarian architect named Halar'Lautari, but unfortunately they had divorced in 1992. Interspecies couplings were rare, and having a long lasting marriage even rarer. There were many, many differences, many difficulties. If Hanala and Joachim didn't share the common trait of being complete lunatics, Adam would not have been surprised if their union broke up as well.

Whatever the case, Erika and Halar could no longer stand the sight of each other. She was doing fine and even had a daughter herself –Candace, who was about three years older than Amala. Candace was deep into the role of best friend/big sister to Amala. Adam appreciated that quite a bit.

Haeva Hoch was the second half of _'The Twins'_ (Erika and Haeva were both conceived within days of each other). Unlike her sister, she had never quite settled down for the traditional family life. She was a lot of fun with little responsibility to her name. It was something she really came to enjoy. The Hoch Legacy was not her concern in the same way it was to Jochen, but she still cared in her own way. In her spare time she helped to take care of her Mother and Father. Her light and amusing presence always brought a lot of laughter to the two of them. It was a talent that Adam could really appreciate.

Galina Hoch, on the other hand, was a whole separate matter altogether. She was aloof and impersonal, but not in a cold sense of the word. As Hanala's only natural born child, Galina suffered from complications from birth to a womb poisoned with element zero radiation. Instead of developing cancers or biotics, Galina's developing brain was directly affected from the exposure ten month quarian gestation period. She had a serious case of Obsessive Comprehension Disorder –a potentially debilitating form of quarian autism. If not regulated and treated; Galina could quite literally think herself into a state of catatonia, and potentially death caused by the brain's inability to focus on the little things that kept the body alive, such as eating and drinking.

Thankfully, she had access to advanced education programs from an early age. She learned to mostly control her impulses and with a huge, supportive family, she more or less was capable of keeping herself from relapsing. Once one got past her barriers, it became clear she was as sweet and as doting as one could be… it just took a lot of work and a whole lot of trust.

The eldest of the siblings was Saleb'Jarva. Although she was a daughter to Joachim and Hanala, she was in actuality, a cousin to the Hoch children. Her parents were murdered by the Nazis in the prelude to the German Civil War. She was taken in by Hanala, then Joachim not long after. She was sort of the woman that Adam could relate to the most. She understood his feelings of being the outsider when he was more or less adopted into the Hoch clan back in 1996. After John, she was the first one to accept him with open arms. Strange considering the two of them fought even worse than John and Jochen did.

Adam could not have been more grateful to Saleb, as well as her wife Drea'Jarva nee Zaelor and their three adult children: Veyare, Rael and Kalin. They had all been real supportive to him in the years following the loss of Alexandria and his subsequent role as Mother and Father to Amala. They were sort of the emotional medicine he needed. If there was one person who he could talk to about grief and could understand his position, it was Saleb.

Then there was John Hoch. John Hoch was… Well… he was John Hoch… There was really no defining who he was. He could be your best friend, or worse nightmare. Thankfully Adam had fallen into the former of the two now. There was a time when John really didn't like him. Of course that was befor-

Adam's thoughts on the Hoch family vanished as he felt a force hit him in the back. His glass of rye spilt all over his datapad. A small thud hit the ground behind him. Silently cursing as he attempted to wipe off his expensive pad, he turned right around and found the reason why his datapad was drenched in booze, its thin glass already wonkily flickering.

Sitting on the ground was a young quarian woman. Her hand was covering her face as though that gesture was the secret to invisibility without military technology at hand. The flare up of his annoyance that his property was damaged by her clumsy actions vanished. It was clear that there was nothing he could add to that. Deciding instead to take pity on her, Adam stood from his seat and before the approaching maitre'd could do it, offered his hand out to the clearly embarrassed woman.

"Hey… are you okay?" he inquired, his mouthing slightly open.

His words were enough for the woman to pull her hand off her face. She looked up wearily at the hand offered and at Adam who was offering it. Her eyes nearly immediately fell as though she needed to debate her next moves carefully. Noticing her discomfort, he offered her a reassuring smile, one that clearly sent the signal that he was not some sort of menace top to her.

Whether or not she got the signal was up in the air, she ignored the offer and pushed herself off the ground by her own doing. Adam's smile faltered and he dropped his hand as the two of them stood up straight once again. Still, the woman did not look him in the eye. Perhaps she was embarrassed; perhaps he was repulsive to her…

"I… yes I-I'm fine," the woman finally addressed him, her voice strange – as though she was only new to speaking. She peaked up at him for a moment before reverting back to staring at her heels. "Sorry… I ahhh… I splashed you," she added.

Glancing down at his open neck suit jacket doused in whiskey, Adam allowed a low chuckle to echo out. It was enough to make the woman relax somewhat. She seemed to finally understand that her clumsiness really did no damage to anything other than perhaps her own pride.

"Well, both I and the jacket are perfectly fine," he reassured her again in a low tone. He gestured to the bar, to where he had been sitting and added, "Why don't you take a seat and order yourself a drink. You seem like you need a drink."

The woman did not reply to the suggestion. She sort of bit her lip and glanced wistfully pas him and to the bar behind him. She emitted an audible sigh and stepped forward; her hands latched together as she brushed by him and took a seat on the stool he had been sitting next to. Her awkwardness made him stifle a grin as he too sat down and watched as the woman stammer something out in Khelish to the bartender.

As a strong looking drink was poured in front of her, Adam raised his finger up to get his drink refilled once again. Together the two of them drank in a dead silence, occasionally glancing up to the view screen to watch the news. Adam fell back into his thoughts as he allowed the startled woman a chance to recompose herself.

He would not force her into a conversation simply because they were sitting in close proximity. It just seemed sort of… rude to impose on her like that. It was clear she was troubled, and he was in no position to exactly dispense advice on her like he was some sort of expert. It was one think to fix the body, but the thoughts and the mood of a woman having a bad day? No… no way was he stumbling into that mess voluntarily. Besides, a strong drink was a real tonic to those sorts of issues…

"I was supposed to meet someone here at 5," she suddenly blurted out as she set down her glass and timidly slid it over the bar towards the server. "Sort of a... a blind date thing my sis… sister set up. I'll… I'll never forgive her for this…"

Adam checked his watch, archaic, compared to the technology he had, but sort of a going away gift he received from his family back home in Vancouver. It read it was 7:24. She had been waiting around the restaurant for nearly two and half hours? Christ…

Squinting at her, he watched as the woman bowed her head low over her now refilled glass. She appeared to be utterly miserable at her revelation; miserable and clearly wondering why she had so willingly exposed that to him. Why in the hell would anyone stand her up? She wasn't bad looking –at least to his own standard of beauty. He could never really tell what went on in the minds of quarians raised quarians. Those quarians were still a real mystery to him.

"Seems like he's… late," he mumbled rather unhelpfully. As she looked up to him incredulously, he added. "His loss, I reckon… or hers…"

For the first since sitting down, the woman finally cast her eyes in his direction. Her pensive gaze finally broke down into a hesitant smile. It appeared to have quite a bit of work for her to produce. Taking it as a victory in that he made the uptight, nervous woman relax somewhat, Adam returned the smile and raised his glass towards her.

"Adam Ackerson," he introduced himself.

Her eyes darted from his face and to the glass. She raised her own glass and tapped it against his.

"Daelia…" she breathed as she averted her eyes again. "My name is Daelia'Vael."

As Daelia'Vael drank heavily from her glass, so did Adam, who turned away from her to look at the view screen in the bar. Calling odd would be an understatement.

He kind of liked it to be honest…

**…**

* * *

**...**


	2. John Hoch

**…**

* * *

**…**

**Chapter Two: John Hoch**

**…**

"Welcome to Daedalus Foundation. My name is Erika Hoch, Director of Human Resources. It is always such a pleasure to receive new talent from around the world, considering the crutch you have had for not being born within the borders of the Reich."

As the gathering of engineers, designers and physicians from dozens of theoretical and practical fields surrounded the two of them, Haeva Hoch turned to smile at her somewhat brash sister, Erika. Judging from the low chuckle and smiles offered by the newcomers, they were simply happy to stand here.

She could not fault them for their gratefulness. They were in a special position. They were considered the best that the outside world could offer them –the elite. With the relaxation of travel restrictions to the German Reich, this was the largest cross section of scientists imported from the world and brought to the halls of Daedalus Foundation. Each man and woman had been handpicked personally from the head of the biotechnology firm himself.

"And I am Haeva Hoch, Director of Public Relations," Haeva spoke up as she stepped forward to join her sister side by side. "It will be my job to spread the word to the world of your talents. All that I ask of you in return is to not make my job any harder by disappointing the founder. He hates to be proven wrong about people he believes in, and that disappointment is never left at the office. A miserable John Hoch is a miserable Hoch family, which you all are now extended members of."

"In other words, we are all in the same boat now," Erika chimed in suddenly. "Thank God that John is rarely disappointed, right Haeva?"

The comment abetted the newcomers into relaxing somewhat in the presence of the two members of the Hoch family. Smiling again at her sister, Haeva pushed through the group with Erika not far behind. Behind them the new arrivals followed almost lock step behind them.

"Daedalus Industries was officially founded in 1979, but had been a brainchild to John Hoch for the better part of the decade," Haeva addressed them once again as they wandered down the hallways of the eighteenth floor of the Daedalus Perch building. "His dream was a simple one: To bring quarian bio-augmentation and medicine to humanity and at a more than fair price. It has been John's vision of a better integrated society, where the quarian nation did not hold the corner market on their science. It his by his hard work and dedication to humanity that has freed this technology from out of the Mandat-"

From behind her a throat cleared and brought Haeva to a silence. She turned back and found it had belonged to Dr. Dominque-Renée Tanet. Her hand appeared to be raised as though she was still in school. Considering her age, this was likely her first posting in the real world.

"I don't mean to be rude…" she spoke nervously to Haeva. "But you're talking about quarians like you're not one of them."

Haeva pushed the natural urge to screw with the girl's mind. She instead spread her mouth open into a warm, receptive smile to the natural curiosity. Many outsiders had still never encountered quarians outside of the Reich and the Mandate. Quarians had rather strict movement policies to keep the dwindling race from spreading out too much.

Still, it was somewhat strange that the woman had never met a quarian before. The Republic of Brittany was a rather popular destination spot for quarians to explore and understand Celtic culture in the wake of the United Kingdom's steadfast closure of its borders to German and quarian general visitation. She supposed the woman might have been a small town girl back in her small nation and never had the opportunity to be in contact with the people who went out of their way to force the North French Republic into relinquishing control over the Province.

Brittany's independence stemmed from steadfastly supporting the German cause against the Soviets in 1943. Remembering National Socialism's firm support for an independent Breton state, the small province sent raw material and a battalion of men to fight in the east. Many of their sons did not return during the advance into Leningrad. The sacrifice of so many sons of Brittany touched the usually hard hearted Wehrmacht Council and as soon as Leningrad was taken in June of 1944, The Council demanded a fully autonomous state of Brittany to be created inside two years. France protested naturally, but quickly relented when the quarians imposed themselves into the argument.

Although it was unconfirmed publically, Haeva remembered when Mother confined in her that she more or less told the French government that if it wasn't resolved, then the quarian board and conclave would support the independence of Normandy as well. Considering that France was already divided and sharing a border with a heavily revised version of Vichy France (Renamed as the Reich Protectorate State of South France) and it controlled almost all of the coast lines on the Bay of Biscay and the entirety of the Mediterranean.

But even as France relented its control over Brittany, the trouble for France did not end. Mother, as it turned out, may or may not have accidentally let slip just how much France would need Normandy to the regional leaders inside Normandy. It wasn't long after that France had to recognize Normandy as a semi autonomous province.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I never met a Breton either," Haeva reassured her kindly. "Don't let my appearance fool you; I am more than just a quarian. I may hold on to the traditions of my race, but I am a German first and foremost."

Smiling once again at the young woman, she turned to cast an amused look at Erika. She turned back to the group and brought them to a stop as her hand gestured to the observation windows into the laboratories they were passing by.

"As some of you already know, we are currently in the visitor area Sector 28a: Microscopic Augmentation and Application Sciences," Erika informed them as the group of foreigners moved to the windows. "This is where the sciences of nanotechnology are explored and perfected for animal experimentation in 1999, with human adaptation sometime very soon in the new millennium. It is the latest science acquired from the quarian science board."

The gathering watched as the many doctors in the laboratory worked. As they did, Haeva stepped away, her omni-tool activated as she typed out a message to the boss.

_**From: Haeva Hoch, Director of Public Relations**_

_**To: The Boss**_

_Coming to greet the new staff?_

"Has nanotechnology been used on humans before?" she heard one of the men say. "I heard… rumours it was deployed as an assassination tool against the SS back during the Civil War."

As Haeva closed the holographic paneling of the omni-tool and turned around to answer the charge, she was saved the energy by Erika, who stepped forward. The ever present smile of the human resources director never vanished.

"Only once has it been used before; on the infamous SS chief Reinhard Heydrich after an attempted assassination in 1942," she informed the questioner and the group at large. "After the quick adaptation of replacement limbs on other men, it was believed that quarian sciences could be quickly adapted to human use. Not so as it turned out. It ended up doing far worse to him than we thought –eventually cumulating to him proactively having his nanotech rejecting lung removed."

The group, now interested in the admittance of the quarian aiding that that genocidal bastard, did not appear pacified by Erika's explanation. Several of the group were Jews according to their dossiers, so the answer came as nothing short as a travesty of justice. It was an understandable anger, but hindsight was always 50/50 as they say. So Haeva stepped forward to assist her sister.

"By the time the quarian admiralty knew what he horrors he had been constructing, it was decided it would be used as a means to facilitate his death as sort of an impromptu means to quietly kill him," Haeva elaborated on Erika's behalf. "He certainly got the better of them for a short while. It was our Father Joachim Hoch – the man who abducted Adolf Hitler- who tracked Heydrich down and put a stop to his madness."

Neither the reply nor the acknowledgement of the Hoch's role in tearing apart the National Socialist regime cooled the sudden tension. They were Foreigners who just did not understand what it took to correct the misdeeds of that time period. This would be a large issue at hand for them. They would have to learn the… _correct_ way to interpret the history of that time period. Far too many of them were taught the lies and half-truth espoused by their forefathers who hated and envied that the quarians did not choose the ruthlessly cutthroat plutocrats of the west to support.

"But why would you save him in the first place?" Eduardo Dias, a brace design engineer, spoke disbelievingly. "He was killing _undesirables_ without a personal conviction to do it, other than progressing his own career…"

Haeva rounded back on the Portuguese man. This sort of subversion was getting a little out of hand.

"Discussions about the less than savory nature of the initial contact and collaboration between the quarian admiralty and the National Socialist parties are always encouraged in the Reich, and the archives are open for you to read into them. However now is not the time to discuss moral failings that occurred nearly sixty years ago," Erika responded with a careful smile for the man who spoke.

Haeva's omni-tool chimed. She smiled to the curious onlookers, most of whom likely never saw such a device in person before and turned away to activate it.

**From: John Hoch, Founder of Daedalus Industries**

**To: The Wage Slave (AKA annoying, but beloved little sister #2)**

_Should be down in ten, just getting some bubbly for the kids; Are they old enough to drink? They all look goddamn 14 to me._

Haeva stifled the urge to laugh as she closed her omni-tool again. As she looked around, she smiled as she took in a familiar sight – her favourite American was no more than ten metres away. She was currently deep in conversation with Head of Internal Security Jürgen Reubke – a rather vicious looking Dresden born and a former Brandenburger Commando who decided to go private sector.

"Oh, for those of you who did not know, this is Isabella Ochoa," Haeva called out loudly so that Isabella could hear. "She serves as private pilot to John Hoch and is in control of the private Heli-shuttle fleet that shall shuttle you to research facilities and mass production factories in the Reich, in the Mandate, or to the private launch sites to our facilities on Luna, Mars, Europa or Enceladus and beyond to the colonies around Alpha and Proxima Centauri."

As Isabella smiled and acknowledged the group with a wave. Any and all reservation caused by the controversial conversation point that was Quarian-Nazi collaboration vanished the moment the foreigners heard the potential for exo-planetary travel.

To them, space travel was a brand new concept. It took the combined minds of the NAESA –the North American European Space Agency to coordinate their first venture to the moon in 1977. It was an impressive feat, really. Still, they lacked the technology and know-how to maintain a presence on the moon like the quarians and the Reich. Nowadays, their space shuttle program never ventured outside of its 600 kilometre range from Earth. It must have been a truly envious sight for the astronauts apart of the European and American space program to watch from their noble, but dinky little shuttle as hundreds, thousands of ships from small civilian transports to the nine kilometre long, one kilometre wide Dreadnaught _Vengeance of Rannoch_ pass them by on deep space operations.

But all of that was on the verge of potentially changing. Recent talks since the end of the Cold War had begun the tentative negotiation over a trade –space technology for resources and unlimited access into the North American market. To the Mandate, they needed all the access they could get to fund the war effort, to get back into the galactic marketplace and eventually to future reclamation projects on Rannoch, which likely an ecological disaster zone. After all, what did the geth monsters care about an environment they could never understand?

"That is, of course, once you have gone through routine space training operations," Erika added hastily before the excitement of space travel got the better of the gathering. "Although in solar system space travel to as far away as Enceladus may take up to 16 hours and have ships with gravitational field generators, it is better to err on the side of caution… ah, Galina!"

Haeva whipped her head around and sure enough, approaching them with her nose buried deep in her datapad was their baby sister Galina. She appeared to have been mumbling to herself. Whether it was her reading the screen or muttering incoherently about whatever was going on her mind, was unknown to her sisters.

As Galina closed in on them, still very much unaware that her new employee's attention was on her, Haeva cleared her throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce to you the Head of Research and Development of all of Daedalus Foundation, Galina Hoch," she loudly addressed the newcomers in order to catch even an iota of Galina's attention. "Galina, these are the latest batch of recruits!"

Galina did not bother to stop or look up to acknowledge her sisters or the group. She had work to do and little time to entertain the notions of a greeting.

"Get them to work." She muttered as she scrolled down her datapad and kept her fast pace.

Haeva and Erika smiled to each other as they watched the newcomers blanched in horror at the brisk brushoff offer by the woman who was virtually John Hoch's second-in-command. The two sisters both knew better than to assume that Galina was being rude. Twenty years into her career, ten of which as the head of all the research done by Daedalus and still Galina was nervous about meeting the people who needed to impress _her. _It was kind of sweet really.

"You'll have to forgive her…" Haeva mused as Galina ran her key card through the security scanner and stepped into the laboratory. "She's not particularly talkative to strangers. Once you prove yourself and get to know her, she will warm up considerably."

"And this isn't the only research facility here," Erika continued as she gestured once again to the facility behind the flexible plate glass observation windows. "Eight floors of this seventy four storeys tall Headquarters are strictly dedicated to research and development laboratories: Limb and organ replacement, Microscopic augmentation technologies, Future technologies and military application sciences are just some of the few fields explored here in the heart of the Foundation."

A low murmur moved through the group. Haeva groaned inwardly. He just knew exactly where this conversation was about to turn…

"Military application sciences?" one of the men repeated just like clockwork, his voice a pure Southern drawl. "I was under the impression John Hoch wasn't interested in fuelling war fighting."

For the first time since receiving the new group, Haeva watched Erika's good graces vanish. The question was a triggering of her defensive protection of all things that related to John. Haeva felt the way as well, but to a lesser extent. She knew John could more than adequately protect his image.

"My brother is a staunch advocate for the reclamation of Rannoch. For the past 55 years, the Wehrmacht and Quarian Mandate Defense Forces have been building up a conventional and unconventional military stockpile dedicated to the reclaiming of Rannoch from the geth machine menace." Erika snapped back to the offending party. "It only makes sense that they have approached Mr. Hoch about exploring the final frontier in weapon development –The soldier himself. We can make soldiers think faster, run farther and physically endure more. The War against the geth will not be like a war against the Soviets. My brother knows this, as did the military leadership. It is only natural that they collaborate..."

Haeva reached out, her hand gripping Erika's sleeve. She turned back to face her sister's attempt to keep Erika's temper in check.

"On that note, if you have a problem with the ethical nature of improving a soldier, but find it passé for a civilian to receive virtually the same technology, then you can leave right now," she warned the group, but held her eyes on the offending American. "Your spot in this corporation was battled over for by fifteen othe-."

"Sometimes I wonder why I put you two in charge of public and employee affairs," a familiar voice crowed out, cutting Haeva off from her threat. "I think you should have taken up law school instead."

Haeva smiled as she, Erika and the group turned around. Sure enough it was John approaching them, a bottle of expensive looking Champagne in his hands and several catering waiters, who were clutching trays of empty glasses as well as hors d'oeuvre's. They followed closely behind the industrialist towards the newcomers gathered in the heart of his company. Several of the Americans clapped, making John raise his free hand with a smile and Haeva wonder why in the hell did Americans have to clap over everything…

As the brief applauds died down and John stood still, looking on his new employee's with a distinct expression of pride in his eyes. It was Dr. Dominque-Renée Tanet who broke through the group and was bold enough to step forward to stand within arm's length of the spitting image of his Father, whose mouth was formed into a rather predatory grin.

"Sir…" Dominque-Renée Tanet greeted the industrialist, her voice breathless as she held out her hand. "It's such an honour to finally meet you in person. I was at your conference in Brest in 1987; I read your dissertation on human controlled evolution and the Modern Process in of battling epidemics in 1989. Both you and your company are the reason why I studied theoretical medical sciences at UBO."

The words spoken by the woman was clearly hero worship with a touch of attraction. Whatever the case, it was enough to make the group look on her like she was already some sort of suck up to him. If the gushing on the part of Dominque was not bad enough, John upped it as he took her hand, offered the Breton a sly grin and popped open the cork of the champagne bottle with his thumb.

As John handed the bottle over to the catering staff and shook Dominque's hand. Haeva did her utmost to not openly groan at his blatant posturing he was already displaying for her. Renée was here to work, not to be underneath him. And considering she was the ripe old age of 23, John, now 45, was quickly reaching the age where it was considered slightly creepy… even if he was a billionaire industrialist.

"_That was a huge gamble on your part…but here you are, over ten years later, with your dream now a reality,"_ he addressed her in French, his voice falling an octave lower. "The honour is really mine now that I have someone so dedicated to my vision at such a young age," he said, reverting back to English. "I must confess that every time I see fresh new faces join our little family, I keep feeling older and older."

Most of the gathering broke down into laughter at his comments. Some remained silent, still. They were clearly the ones who had a sudden realization that they were now in the employment of a man who believed firmly in a war of extinction. Haeva took down their names. They would be trouble if left unchecked, and the last thing that John wanted was trouble within his science branch.

If John noticed it, and he likely did, he certainly was not willing to draw attention to it. He instead moved on.

"You are standing in the pinnacle of artificial human evolutionary development. Although we no longer have exclusive rights to augmentation sciences, Daedalus Foundation is decades ahead of our friendly competition," John continued, his hands flying high as he gestured to his pride and joy. "While that may be the case, Daedalus Foundation is still decades –_centuries even_\- behind our quarian cousins in corporations such as Gau'layr Industries and Rannoch Origins. We are the middle of the pack, but that is where I like to be. It means we have room to grow, it means we will have competition for many years to come. Buy with your help, your education, and your dedication to advancement, we will push ahead and give these well-established giants a run for their business."

Erika joined her brother's side and took his forearm. It was her way to turn the prep talk off. John looked at her, amused that she was cutting him off. John glanced to Haeva, who shrugged. It didn't matter what situation they were in: Erika was always the boss.

"But for now, this is a moment to celebrate, and to welcome you all within the embrace of Daedalus Foundation," Erika informed the gathering once again. "So help yourselves to something to eat and drink, commingle with your new co-workers… and once again, welcome to Daedalus Foundation..."

…

* * *

…

His pupils dilated, a rush to his head exploded and his neurons flared back to life and kicked right back into that so familiar overdrive. John Hoch's head flew back off the bathroom counter. His hand wiping the cocaine buried into his nostrils.

"_All for freedom and for pleasure, Nothing ever lasts forever…."_

With his earbuds blaring 'Tears for Fears' into his brain, John brushed the last bits of stimulate into the sink and stepped back, rubbing his hair and then worked to fix his tie. He had to get back to the newcomers least he faced the wraith of his sisters for ducking out of the party.

Impromptu office parties were lame ways to show that the work environment was a light and laid back. He might have concocted it, but it didn't mean he had to LIKE it. He supposed it would be a good chance to scope out the new meat, figure out which ones would be going places and prepare to further their careers to other branches inside the Corporation. At least that was before his bump of coke and the champagne that was now flowing freely from his private stock.

He would save evaluations for later, for now he was going to go out and find that fresh piece of meat who sucking up to him. The Breton woman … Dominque; he would probe into that avenue. He was more than certain he could have his way with her. The thing was he had to make sure it was worth the effort. She might have been sweet now, but she could also turned out to be an obsessive lunatic, which would have been a real turn off and a waste of a young, nubile specimen like her...

"You don't need most of the new faces."

John spun around, his eyes wide and alert. Standing there in the men's bathroom was his baby sister Galina. Her eyes were bowed, and her mouth forming a deep frown. She clearly didn't want anything to do with the novel recruiting John was engaged in.

"_How long were you standing there?"_ he hissed as he yanked out his earbuds, his eyes darting back and forth as the coke fueled paranoia got the better of him.

Naturally, Galina did not acknowledge the change in his demeanor, or his question. She stepped forward and forced herself to look into her twitchy brother's eyes.

They are… _redundant_… and will be difficult to re-educate. Mass recruitment from foreign countries was not the right course," she replied, her tone remaining firmly apathetic. "It smells like something Haeva concocted...a public relations stunt to show how… progressive we are."

John could not help but chuckle at Galina's concerns. He leaned against the edge of the counter and crossed his arms and legs together.

"If you read any of the memos you were sent that weren't directly related to your work, you would know that she was against the idea," he retorted briskly. "This was all my idea; just give them a chance. If it doesn't work out, I will deal with it."

John slight criticism for her lack of awareness did bother the woman in the slightest. Holding her eyes on John for a solid ten to fifteen seconds, Galina finally nodded. She appeared to be satisfied with his response.

As Galina turned away, she paused herself and turned back to face him once again. In a rare display of physical contact, her hand reached out and brushed against his nostrils. John reached out and pulled her hand away from his face and offered her a weak smile. If there was one person who could make him feel even an ounce of guilt over the matter, it would have been her.

"Dilated pupils, inflamed nostrils, heart rate increased… it's not the 1980's anymore," was all she had to say to twist the knife in his gut.

Leaving her brother slightly leaned forward and unsteadily pecked his cheek before she pulled back and left John alone in the bathroom. John shook his head and turned back to look into his reflection.

John reached into his jacket and pulled out his gold cigarette case and lighter. As he lit up his cigarette, his thoughts turned to what his sister had said. Perhaps there was a grain of truth to it. He wasn't in his twenties or thirties anymore; and with the coming expansion into Council space only a year or two away, it would be time to put the past to bed and look forward to what was yet to come.

With John's thoughts focused on the expansion, his machine index finger unconsciously etched the Reichsadler swastika –once scratched out by his father in likely a fit of rage, it had been restored by John when he received the inheritance. Unlike the rest of the Hoch's, he was not a firm believer in erasing out the past. Not when there was so much to draw from it. The tried and tested Hoch tactic of burying one's own head in the sand was just not appealing to him.

Shaking his thoughts on the future out of his mind, he exhaled his cigarette and tapped it out in the sink. Fixing his jacket and forcing a smile back onto his face; he left the solitude of the bathroom and rejoined the party brewing just outside. He immediately locked eyes with his pilot and bodyguard Isabella Ochoa, who was chatting vibrantly in Spanish to one of the new recruits; he offered her his smile and a nod.

As he grabbed a fresh glass of champagne off of one of the servers, he turned around and found that half a dozen scientists had gathered around him in a manner not dissimilar to that of the Remora hanging off of a Shark. He widened his smile for them.

"And I suppose you have questions?" he inquired brightly.

His words more or less brought the many conversations to a standstill and both of his sisters excused themselves from their conversations. They both joined his side as though he was in need of protection or back up perhaps. It was really not an uncommon situation to be in since the early eighties. He _was_ sort of a big deal to many. To be honest, John sort of liked to be the centre of attention. It meant that everyone was listening whenever he spoke.

A woman stepped forward first. She was wearing a rather nervous smile, as though she did not want to stir up the Industrialist. John softened his smile somewhat, his free hand dug into his trouser pocket in an attempt to quietly relax her.

"John… I mean, Sir, I need to ask about your Weapons programs," the woman spoke to him, she sounded Italian "I… well, we all were told that no such programs existed during our recruitment applications. We believed your work was strictly for civilian application only."

"Planes, chlorine and barbed wire were originally designed for civilian application as well…" Haeva growled before John could respond to the question.

Groaning audibly at his sister's snide remark, John reached over, grabbed Haeva by her head and kissed her temple. The act brought laughter to the gathering and embarrassed poor Haeva into silence. Chuckling with the group, John turned back to the woman.

"You were told that out of national security concerns," John addressed the woman and the crowd as a whole. "You have since signed a nondisclosure agreement, so I will address your concerns: Yes, we flubbed the truth somewhat. These are tense days. With the war drawing near and cold feet growing from the youth, we cannot admit to these sorts of programs partly due to our own nondisclosure agreements with the contractors within the Wehrmacht and partly to stem the fear of the unjustified and unfounded concerns that our technology firm is somehow flaunting the very scientific ethics we hold most dear in order to create and roll out some sort of super soldier program."

The whispering grew amongst the crowd. John winced and rubbed his nose as the cocaine kicked him once again. He had said the magic phrase. He had said the three words that drove foreigners absolutely insane with fear.

_Super soldier program._

"Look, if you're going to work here the you need to understand that the so-called '_super soldier'_ programs are the delusional lies and half-truths expounded by American mass media in all forms, meant to demonize the Reich and the quarians and cause fear and concern amongst the young men and women who will take the battle across the galaxy in order to combat the geth," he spoke with the patience of a saint. "These fears are propaganda to make common soldier in the Wehrmacht think that their government views them as organic drone which needs to be improved upon. The Cold War may be ending, but it hasn't stopped their xenophobic and anti-German fears from crossing oceans. They do not have access to this technology, and they will not have access to it for a long time to come, so they go out of their way to demonize what they cannot have."

He took a deep breath.

As you likely noticed, I did indeed say _'half-truths'_," he continued onwards, hoping to Christ that he was not slurring his words. "Yes, if our technology is misused, we could potentially create superior soldiers; but frankly the amount of technology required to make the super soldier _'super'_ would more than likely destroy the body and mind of the test subject. Augmentation technology with the expressed purposes of improving a soldier cannot and should not be done on a whim. The brain and body cannot be hijacked with too much manmade technology. They are durable, yes, but they have their limits, and we just do not have the technology yet for it to be a viable possibility."

It appeared that he was making some headway into the foreigners. Many in the crowd remained unconvinced, yes. But more and more of them seemed to have been relaxing and acknowledging what he was trying to tell them.

"Secondly, the ethics of augmentation for the sake of augmentation is still up in the air," John pressed on. "While I support responsible use of augmentation technology, I cannot deny the huge untapped potential we have been granted. Quarians have been augmenting themselves for centuries prior to the geth extermination. There was no singularity achieved, no large jump to something completely different then it meant to be quarian. The only way for this science to grow is to begin to push the boundaries, but frankly soldiers placed into the battlefield are not where we should start."

"This topic has not even begun to approach the expenditures, and the fact that all augmentation must be approved of by the individual soldier. There is no forced augmentation policy that has been enacted by Wehrmacht Command," Erika murmured as she sipped her drink.

John gave his sibling a radiant smile as he patted her shoulder.

"Yes, Erika raises the financial aspect to the program. Even if the moral debate allowed it and the science worked, the cost would be astronomical per soldier deployed," he clarified Erika's statement for the recruits. "It costs seven hundred thousand for a reflex booster alone, two hundred thousand for an infolink, military grade limb replacement surgery eight hundred thousand. The cost projected for one soldier could cross into the millions, and its value against the geth is unfounded. The geth could adapt and make most of the new advantages moot."

"But the quarians don't just have enemies in the geth, do they?" a voice called out, cutting John off rather unexpectedly. "They have intentions with much of the other races and not enough numbers to do it themselves."

For the first time, all amusement washed off of John's expression. The mood fell flat as John held his eyes on the source of the comment that cut him off.

The gathering of scientists shuffled out of the way to reveal the source of the remark. It belonged to one Alan Chu –a bio-engineer graduate from MIT. An intelligent young mind, he apparently failed to study up on John's history. John had very few topics that made him hot under the collar. The concept that quarians would use humans as cannon fodder was the absolute pinnacle of anti-quarian xenophobia. It was the sort of ignorance, bordering on racism that John could simply not ignore.

A low chuckle came from John finally as a cool smile spread across his mouth. He stepped forward to where Chu stood. The men and women parted as the coked up industrialist meandered his way over to the source of his ire.

"Ah yes… the classic theory of "_Vergeltungskrieg"_ – Retribution War, which foreigners love to sprout off about," he replied sardonically, his fingers making air quotes before his brain had a chance to tell him out to do it. "To those who are unaware, _Vergeltungskrieg_ is the overwhelming retaliatory war against every alien civilization which turned their back on the quarians during the exile... which is every known species. I have heard this topic brought up around me since my sisters here were eating in high-chairs and still in diapers."

Like clockwork, Erika and Haeva both glared at John for saying such a thing. Some of the scientists and engineers laughed uncomfortably.

"Quarians… as it may come to you as a shock- are just as emotional as we are," he pressed on, his voice rising as he turned around to stare at all of the new people. "Considering that only a century ago, a mistake on the part of a few accumulated in the eradication of 99 percent of their _entire _species, and that the council races and members allowed it to happen; at best through apathy, or at worse, deliberately, but then also punished the survivors for the mistake, then yes, yes the survivors would indeed want to discuss a long term response to this grievous wound in which the quarians still are recovering from."

John turned his eyes back to Chu. The young man seemed to realize that he stumbled into a conversation he held no chance of retorting to.

"However, the talk is just that _–talk_," John said as he stepped by Chu and moved further into the crowd. "No quarian in any position of power intends on starting a Vergeltungskrieg against the turian hierarchy any time soon, let alone every other species. It would be madness, an act as insane as Hitler declaring war on the United States in support of the Japanese, while in a war with the Soviets and the British. The Reich and the Mandate have enough on their plates as it is without staring any more wars."

"In short: Super Soldiers are a fabrication designed to sway the public away facts at hand," Haeva tacked on, her voice filled with a finalization, that the topic would not be broached again for the time being. "Just because we support The Oath and the military, does not mean we will blindly allow ourselves to be seduced by the power of human augmentation sciences. The Hoch family swore long ago to never allow those in a position of political and military power to lead us blindly by the nose ever again. That extends to this Foundation as well."

"And there is no serious debate on waging war against trillions of aliens with a population of 100 million Germans and 30 million quarians." Erika added as well

John pressed his hand against his face and exploded into a wild giggle. Why in the hell couldn't he just say that instead of spewing out that long winded defense of the quarians? Numbers were so much simpler to get. When in the hell did Erika and Haeva get to be the clever ones? It wasn't long ago that Erika and Haeva were aqua net infused, binge drinking, metal head bimbos.

"Herr Hoch, a moment of your time?" He heard behind him. John turned around It was Charlotte, his personal assistant. She was glancing around at the new faces, smiling before she turned back to John to add. "General Von Manstein is in the conference room. He appears to be agitated. I already sent Galina his way."

John nodded and down his glass of alcohol. If there was one thing he did not like to deal with it was an annoyed or agitated Generaloberst Erich-Rüdiger von Manstein questioning him about the progress in his R&amp;D department. Rich considering the Wehrmacht was nearly always behind on their payments.

"Right…" John said rubbing the back of his neck. He turned back to Erika and loudly added, "Erika, show our new men and women to the dining room in an hour. I'll meet them there for dinner… and get their security clearances finalized. The sooner they work, the sooner we all get paid."

The group broke down into a laughter, which for the most part went a long way to ease the tension built up by the previous conversations. John smiled once again watched as Erika guided the group out of the foyer, leaving John behind with Haeva, Charlotte, Isabella, the Head of Security Reubke and the caterers, now cleaning up after the departing group.

"What did I tell you about mass hiring foreigners?" Haeva was the first to speak. "I could have sworn I warned you repeatedly."

John rounded back on Haeva. His physical reaction was already enough to make the younger sibling smirk.

"Alright, I get it! You're right! What in the hell was I thinking for not listening to the all-knowing, all-seeing Galina and Haeva Hoch?" John growled back at his sister sardonically. "Look…" he sighed. "Just keep them in low clearance facilities and separated from each other whenever possible. At the end of the corner we'll begin slashing their positions if they fail to assimilate."

As Haeva inclined her head in apparent agreement, a low whistle came from Isabella Ochoa.

"Galina already spoke to you about the matter?" She mused out loud. "That was fast. It seems like age is bringing that Hoch fire out in her finally."

As Haeva and Isabella laughed at his expense, John quietly debated firing the two of them right there and then. It wouldn't be a serious shit-canning, just one to make the two of them squirm just a little bit.

"Don't even start with me, Ochoa," he warned his confidant and bodyguard. He turned to the head of security and added. "Reubke, I want you to coordinate with Haeva to identify the troublemakers and send the list to the BND for monitoring. Keep an eye on all of them, especially the North Americans. I wouldn't put it past them to send spies our way."

Jürgen made no wise crack. He simply nodded his head and moved to join Haeva without a word to utter. Good man. Respect was just what the Industrialist needed at the moment.

Washing his hands of this clusterfuck, John left the gathering of subordinates behind in order to wander into yet another.

**…**

* * *

**…**


	3. Daelia'Vael

**...**

**...**

**Chapter Three: Daelia'Vael**

…

"Fraulein we're here… seems like there was a bit of trouble though."

Looking up from her Khelish translated and rather wrinkled paperback copy of Dostoevsky's _The Brothers Karamazov. _Daelia'Vael looked up into the eyes of her driver, who was smiling at her. Although she was weary of it, it did seem friendly enough to her.

Unconcerned by his word of caution, she instead reached into her jacket and produced her credit chit, swiping it into the pad the man had extended out to her. As she murmured a faint "_thank you"_, she wrapped her head back up into her long, dark silk scarf and climbed out of the back of the taxi and into the chilly Berlin night.

She had been living in Germany now since she was about eighteen. Eight years later and still she could not handle the cold. The cold was a nuance, but it was infinitely better than living back in the Mandate. She would never, ever return back to the Mandate if she could help it. Better to live in the Reich and wait until Rannoch was back in quarian hands then return to that desert hell. She would be the first one on the transports off Earth if she had any say in the matter.

Pulling her long jacket tight around her frame, she begun to walk as the taxi sped off into the night. Her head was bowed as the flashing lights coloured the street. She stepped by the gathering of grubby looking hipster teenagers laying on the cement sidewalk, all neatly in a long row and the dozen or police officers who were standing over them, two of them had their pistols drawn on them, one was busy zap strapping their wrists and ankles together, two more officers throwing them in the back of the police transportation vans for processing. The rest were keeping the perimeter secure. Their eyes followed every passerby, who dared to look at the scene.

A sudden flurry of an argument in German broke out not far away. From just down the alleyway, more protestors were being dragged towards the already detained compatriots by fully geared riot police, extendable stun batons and tasers in their hands. Judging from the limping and groaning of the dissenters, the less-than-lethal arsenal had been deployed freely.

Just as she was about be clear of the crime scene, one of the police officer's stepped out in front of her about a dozen metres away from her. It was an armoured female officer, a strategic choice most likely made to keep her pacified. Her hand was up, gesturing to Daelia to remain where she stood. Daelia did not need to be told twice. Police in any form was something Daelia respected without question. She was not about to cause them any more trouble than they already experienced every day.

"_Identification papers, please,"_ the helmeted officer requested as she stopped in front of Daelia, her hand resting on her pistol belt_. "Pankow local government placed the district under temporary curfew in response to the demonstrations."_

Daelia inclined her head and reached into her jacket to produce her identification electronic documents. The officer took it from her and stepped back to run her omni-tool over the tags. A second officer joined her, his helmet and gasmask in his hands. He was much older than the first one. His stern eyes stared into Daelia's. Daelia turned her head to stare at her feet. It felt like the right thing to do. She was not about to cause herself any trouble.

Besides, being a quarian was sort of an indication that she wasn't in cooperation with the hoodlums being rounded up and likely sent to detention centers for rehabilitation and re-education. They generally viewed quarians not as friends but as manipulators. She supposed in some ways it was like the quarians who lived in Germany had taken the place of the Jews who fled to Israel the moment the Palestinians and Jewish settlers in the Mandate came to a two state solution in 1946.

The quarians were the new Jews in many ways -always to be blamed whenever something occurred that someone didn't like. It did not matter how much they did to keep world peace and advance them, it was always in some way their fault. Then again, at least this time there was a palpable reason to distrust the quarians. It wasn't as though the Jews were about to embark on a space crusade against killer machines. That was definitely a quarian thing. And for many, it was reason enough to hate her people.

"I must have missed that curfew announcement; I was outside the district all day… Mitte to be exact," she murmured to the two officers working on her identification papers.

Receiving no immediate response, Daelia clamped her mouth close and allowed the two of them to work in silence. She could hear herself and she just knew that she sounded like a nuisance. They were here to do a job, not to listen to her excuses. Why did she make small talk with the riot police? Was she really that lonely… stupid of her, really stupid...

Another thud hit behind the police officers as the riot police threw another dissident into the van. After a moment or two, the officer closed her omni-tool and then glanced to her partner, who nodded. The younger officer stepped forward, and she handed Daelia her identification back to her.

"_You have our apologies for this inconvenience, Fraulein Vael,"_ the officer addressed her again, this time much more agreeable.

As Daelia pocketed her identification, Daelia mouth formed into a strained smile for the two officers. Why was she smiling? She was just making herself look more foolish.

"Not… It's not a problem at all officers," she returned sincerely. "You have your duties. Inconvenience is a small price to pay for security..."

Cringing terribly, Hanala rubbed the back of her neck. As Daelia berated herself once again for sounding so stupid, the two officers glanced at each other, as though it had been the last thing they expected to hear. She expected to be laughed at. For sounding like such a fool, she must certainly deserved at least one smack with one of their stun batons.

But scorn and abuse did not come her way. Instead the grumpy looking older police officer broke his grim visage and permitted himself to smile for her, eventually chuckling as though she said something quaint. Daelia blinked. Apparently it must have been rare to find someone out there outside of the law enforcement who still saw value of their actions. But Daelia certainly did without reservation. She wasn't trendy like the others; she lived in a world of practicality.

"A young citizen who respects law enforcement is a rarity to find these days unfortunately," the older officer spoke approvingly to her. "What these people fail to understand is that our respect for their protests would have been afforded to them if they showed their respect to what we represent."

Keeping her mouth clamped, Daelia only could nod. The older officer grinned again and patted her on the shoulder and left to rejoin the arrested protesters, leaving Daelia alone with the helmeted officer.

"Police presence is likely to continue into tomorrow for the entire district," the officer briskly added. "It is recommended you stay home, or if you must go out be sure to keep your identification on you at all times. Please stay safe and vigilant, citizen."

Once again Daelia nodded and this time managed to make her legs move. She departed, leaving behind the crime scene and the police whom she more or less humiliated herself in front of. Stupid… stupid…. _STUPID!_

…

…

Swiping her key card over the door panel, Daelia entered her small condominium apartment.

As the lights turned on and the door closed behind her, Daelia could not wait to kick off her heels and step onto the heated floor barefooted. It was just what she needed after a night like tonight. Now barefooted, she activated her monitor waited as the broadcast signal was received.

"_-The would-be attacker has been identified as 27 year old Karl Metzger from Bonn. Pankow Police Services has confirmed that the suspect has since died of his injuries…" _the news anchor spoke as Daelia turned on the heated floors._ "In lighter news, the notorious founder of Daedalus Foundation John Hoch was spotted-"_

Daelia toned out as the news switched from something she wanted to hear about to quite possibly the least likable person on the face of the earth. All that wealth on his hands and all he could do was be a decadent playboy?

Her gripes about the man were cut off as she heard the door to her bedroom opened, making Daelia jump in fright.

But there was nothing to fear. It was just another incident of her overactive fear. Standing there in the door frame was Nytalia, naturally. One hand was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, the other resting on her stomach, where the developing fetus was growing inside of her.

The shorter woman waddled over to her sister and attempted to hug her. Her expression was a bright smile which Daelia attempted to return. Daelia reached over and returned the affection half-heartedly as she turned the station to find a John Hoch free news broadcast.

"Sorry," Nytalia addressed her sibling as she carefully sat down on the couch. "I know you don't like people in your personal space, but your bed is _unbelievably_ comfy."

Daelia frowned at the statement, but knew better than to reply to her pregnant sister's observation –just in case it turned into an argument. Of course the bed was comfy. It took her three weeks of shopping and selection to find the perfect bed for her to rest on. Everything she did and chose had to be deliberate, or else she could not simply live with it.

Daelia froze her channel surfing as soon as she found herself staring at Martin Bruckmann – the host of the popular roundtable discussion forum _State of the Nation. _His neutral expression was always a relief to see for her. He was someone who was impartial to all that came across his table… and never did he seem to do puff pieces meant to lure people into a false sense of insecurity or relaxation. It was a relief to see an actual journalist then a propaganda spiller.

"_Now let's move on to the last topic of the night. Latest polls indicate that popular support for the war remains at a high eighty four percent," _the presenter spoke to the gathering._ "It is a statistic that appears to confirm what Chancellor Manfred Rommel has addressed –the loud minority drowning out the popular will of the people. I the wake of tonight's riots across the Reich, I ask the panel if our government has afforded too much freedom of expression in recent years, especially now that we are on the eve of the Grand Crusade. Where does expression end and sedition begin?"_

"The police have been at it all night," she told Daelia as she rested against the back of the couch with a soft groan. "Some dumbass tried to firebomb a reenlistment station on _Kronprinzenstraße_. The idiot took three paces outside into the street with a lit Molotov cocktail and got four bullets in the chest and torched in response."

Daelia flinched at the statement. He did not need to know the extent of how the protester died. To her credit, Nytalia did not as much as blink at the information she was sharing. She always seemed to have a stronger stomach for that sort of thing. It came with her four years of enlistment in the Quarian Mandate Defense Force when she turned 18.

"Sooo… how was it?"

Daelia squinted at her sibling.

"How do you _do_ that?" Daelia murmured to herself in a whisper. "You tell me about some poor misguided person who got killed and then switch topics like it was _nothing_."

Nytalia offered her baby sister an awful smirk. It was always the sort of expression that made Daelia worry, or in this case dread what she was about to say next. It was never very good.

"By not giving a shit about another dead dissident who went ahead and acted like an idiot," Nytalia casually remarked, clearly taking a sick pleasure in watching Daelia squirm. "Now stop stalling and tell me about your date! Was Cades nice?"

Staring at her sister for a moment, Daelia answered the question by looking away.

"_Generalmajor Jochen von Hoch, you have been remarkably restraint tonight," _Daelia listened to Bruckmann speak._ "Surely you have an opinion on the mass arrests occurring this very hour."'_

The camera panned in on the lone military man in the room, who was in the middle of his glass of water. Daelia toned out any and all conversation about the date talk her sister insisted on engaging in.

He could not have been over forty and he was a Generalmajor. Daelia remembered the pictures in her history books and the interviews in the past. Jochen von Hoch was virtually a spitting image of his Father, Generalfeldmarschall Joachim Hoch. The difference only was skin deep at best; his hair more of a dirty blonde and his eyes while the same piercing blue had a remarkably different look in them. Joachim Hoch's eyes were cruel – a product of the indoctrination he voluntarily underwent, the hell he endured during his military sacrifice… and that great, awful regret he held. Jochen Hoch's were softer, kinder. Disciplined, certainly, but infinitely more receptive.

There wasn't an inherent falseness to him like his industrialist brother, John either. She knew she had no right to judge another person, but John oozed a poisonous confidence and spelt out trouble. To her, there was just no way in her mind that John was the saint his money and stunts could make him look like.

"_Well this is sort of like that Nena girl situation back in 1983. You know her, she was the one who wrote a song about balloons and found herself in prison for three years on sedition charges? She did not even write the song!"_ Generalmajor Von Hoch addressed the panel, earning a slight chuckle from them._ "All these arrests do is empower the movement and provide foreign sympathy to the peace movement. It legitimizes the argument that the war we are about to embark on as one of genocide. Arrest the violent ones, yes, offer re-education programs to the nonviolent offenders, certainly. To mass arrest them and stain their criminal records over a difference in opinion is an overkill we can ill afford."_

As several of the panel members tried to cut in, all Jochen von Hoch did was hold up one hand to silence him as he sipped his water. Everyone in the panel knew better than to speak up and interrupt him.

"_Furthermore I happen to disagree with the suggestion that some of the panel here assumption that freedom of expression and protest are dangerous avenues to travel down these days,"_ he continued in his low rumble. _"I refuse to believe that the German Reich that has stood since the death of National Socialism –an organization, may I remind you, which feared dissent to its core as well- has the exact same insecurities that allowed us to travel down the exact same path. I refuse to accept the notion that the guidance of our quarian cousins, who patiently taught our people that it was well within our rights to question our actions were all for nothing. I refuse to believe that the moment our union shows a crack in the foundation that it would all tumble into self-destruction. _

_I do believe firmly in the conviction that the German people will know that it is no longer a time for a apathy to The Vow we swore our cousins fifty three years ago. I believe that when things come down to the wire, the German people will do what is right as they did in conflicts past; as the quarians did in our times of crisis. They had every opportunity to abandon us in the first years, to cut their losses and find other allies. They did not. They stuck to us and at the sacrifice of thousands of lives; they destroyed the National Socialist slave bonds and looming Bolshevik slavery that lurked in the east. It is only right that we pay back their resolve and sacrifice with resolve and sacrifice of our own."_

"_Daeli_?" Nytalia interrupted Daelia's concentration. "How was Cades? Did you fancy him?"

Daelia did not turn away from the screen as she heard her sister's question, even as she tried to stir up a reaction to her annoying pet name variant. Slowly, she bit her lip as her fingers fidgeted in her lap. She held her eyes on General Hoch's defense of free speech.

"He… well… he didn't exactly show up," she admitted casually to her sibling.

There was only one moment of silence between the two of them. In an instant, all the calmness the pregnant woman was projecting flickered out. Replacing it was a shaking fury and an audible growl from the flustered sister. Nytalia launched herself out of her seat and blocked Daelia's view of the monitor.

"_Seriously? _He_ didn't_ show up?_"_ she repeated, her voice breathless as she stared in disgust. "Why that low bred _bosh'tet…_ I told that bastard where and when. I thought he would be interested for sure!"

Daelia shrugged. She wasn't particularly bothered by what happened. It wasn't exactly the first time she had been abandoned or put in an embarrassing. It was just the sort of thing she had long ago learned to live with. Apparently it was something that still offended Nytalia to no end. Naturally, she was normal. Rejection wasn't exactly a state she was used to.

"Perhaps he read a little bit into me... figured out who he was being set up with," Daelia murmured as she tried to look around her sister. "I said it wasn't a good idea."

The answer was not going enough for her sister. Nytalia moved once again in order to stay in Daelia's line of sight. The anger she had held for… for… for whoever it was that she tried to set up Daelia up with was being suppressed. Daelia's eyes fell as she looked at her sister's hands reaching out to take hers.

"Well, still... you came in pretty late," she pointed out, glancing at the chronometer on the monitor. "Why didn't you call? Jorah or I could have picked you up right away. We could have gone to Cades' place and I could have beaten him up… or sic Jorah on him," she paused for a moment and smirked as she added. "At the very least I would have scoped you out a nice looking guy myself."

Blanching at the suggestion of violence done in her name, Daelia shook her head and awkwardly patted her sister's arm. Just like old times, Nytalia took Daelia's hand and dragged her to sit down on the couch. Daelia did not resist as she collapsed into the seat next to her. She did not react as her sister once again violated her personal space by laying her head down on Daelia's lap. The affection always bothered her. She just did not know how to tell Nytalia off about it.

"I... ahhh….I sort of stayed around the restaurant," Daelia admitted to her sister, who was staring up at her still. "I had some dinner and drinks with someone who was there alone as well."

Naturally the admittance did not get past Nytalia. Her eyes lit up at the implications she was already developing.

"Really now?" she brightly echoed. "Did you have fun at least?"

Daelia could only really shrug.

"I… I suppose so…" Daelia admitted carefully, her eyes remaining adverted from her sister's gaze. "He didn't exactly push me into conversations or start conversations. That was… that was nice. Hi name was Adam… ahh… Adam Ackerson."

Any and all humour vanished from out of Nytalia's expression. Her face instead contorted into a look of shock and uneasiness at the realization that Daelia spent the evening in close quarters with a human of all things.

"A human… You went on a date with a _human_?" she breathed unsteadily. She looked close to exploding with laughter at the concept of her sibling consorting with an alien in that sort of way.

"It wasn't a _date_!" Daelia vigorously defended herself from her sister's light teasing. "I guess I looked upset and he invited me to join him for a drink, which I really needed anyway. Our priorities merged, so I joined him. There was no suggestion or consent that it was a date in any way, shape or form. Later on he was hungry, and I was hungry and I had a table reserved anyway."

Nytalia displayed an awful smile.

"That's a date, Daelia," he just had to point out. "Albeit an improvised one, but a date nonetheless… boy you work fast… and with a five finger to boot! Was he at least attractive? They aren't bad to look at… I guess…"

Daelia could only groan, giving her sibling another chance to laugh lightly at her expense. Eventually she squinted at her sister. Although she did not reply to the remark, she did internally debate whether or not the human was attractive. She was never really one to judge a person purely on their skin deep traits. Too many variables left open for inerpretation. She supposed that objectively, he wasn't bad to look at ascetically. But there was a much more valuable trait that she appreciated: He wasn't pushy; which was a refreshing to find. He did not impose conversations; he did not impose his opinions. He spoke only when she found it in her to speak. It felt… so easy.

"So…" Nytalia asked rather awkwardly. "Did you at least get his contact information?"

The words, the simple curiosity was enough to make Daelia's eyes widen in shock. Daelia did not reply as she turned away. Her brain furiously attempted to remember what transpired. She could remember bits and pieces of the dinner, of the conversations that transpired between Adam and her when they happened, but after that her mind was a blank. It was not uncommon to happen. In social situations it was just how she coped with her unnerving fear of personal interaction – by turning her brain off until the so-called danger had passed.

She could… remember… some of it. At the end when Adam walked her out. He mentioned he had… a private driver; he said he could give her a ride to her home if she cared for one. She… declined, got a taxi. She could hear him ask for something, but by that time she had already fled to the security that was the taxi and was already buried in her novel… Had he asked to see her again? Keelah, had she really been so rude to him? Why couldn't she just pause and carefully consider what somebody had to say on the spot rather than an hour later!

"You seem to like him enough to share a drink and dinner," she heard her sister say somewhere under her. "I bet you-"

Daelia heart was pounding her breathing caught up in her lungs and her self-loathing mashed together, forming the perfect storm of guilt and disgust.

"I… I forgot, okay!" Daelia suddenly exploded, losing her control and reverting back to her primitive frightfulness. "I messed up yet again…. I-I _FUCKED_ up! Are you happy?!"

With the desire to pace and mutter and the inevitable hyperventilation overloading her mind building up, Daelia suddenly found herself pinned underneath her sister, who was twenty or so pounds heavier than she last had to do this. Nytalia's arms wrapped around her sister and her hands worked circles into her spine.

"Just… breath, will you?" Nytalia whispered into her panicked sister's ear. "Stay there, I'll get your medications… okay love?"

Biting her lip hard in order to force herself from screaming out, Daelia nodded her head and watched as Nytalia clambered off her and half sprinted to the kitchen. Daelia buried her head into her lap and her hands wrapped around her skull. Her mind was a blank as she focused all her attention on breathing as her sister begged her to do. Within moments Nytalia was back, a bottle of her anti-anxiety pills and a glass of water in each hand.

She bent down in front of Daelia, unscrewed the cap and placed two pills into Daelia's hand. Daelia immediately swallowed the pills and took the water with her shaking hands. Her eyes were closed as she felt Nytalia running her cool hand over her cheek. The pills nearly had an instantaneous effect. At least that was how it felt to her. She didn't know just how long time had passed by, but Nytalia was still there, sitting on the floor in front of her younger sister, her pretty face scrunched up in worry.

"Sorry," was all that Daelia could mumble out.

Nytalia smiled and shook her head. She brought herself up to her knees and placed her lips against Daelia's sweating forehead. Nytalia sighed and took a seat next to her sibling. She reached over and pulled Daelia's hands into her own lap.

"Look, I know I seem to push you into things… But I just want you to be happy. It's all that I have ever wanted for you, it's what everyone would want for you," she spoke softly to Daelia "I'm not saying having someone will make you happy, but it couldn't hurt to have someone out there who cares. I'm sorry if I triggered something tonight…"

Shrugging, Daelia turned to look to her sister for a moment before averting her eyes so she remained dead locked onto her knees.

"Maybe I'm happy enough with just you."

"But it's not _just_ me you have," Nytalia reminded Daelia. A tone of urgency crossed into her voice. "Mom and Dad are holding a dinner on Friday. They wanted me to remind you about it. I'd like it if you came. We all would like you to come."

Still Daelia did not look up. Then the words spilled out of her mouth. She did not mean to, she did not want to. It just sort of… happened…

"They're not our parents," Daelia mumbled to herself.

Daelia did not speak the words maliciously or with any form of disillusionment. It was just a statement of fact. They were not their mother and father. They were adoptive parents. But clearly that was all it took to destroy the cool, collective nature of Nytalia'Xen. She may not have been malicious, but it was enough to make Nytalia's expression contort into a look of pain. Like Daelia had reached out and slapped her hard.

Without warning, she launched herself off the couch and headed to the coat rack near the door. Her eyes formed into a look of furious rage caused by the blunt words of her younger sister.

"You're right, just what the _hell_ was I thinking?" Nytalia growled as she pulled furiously on her coat, her head shaking back and forth. "_Fuck_ the twenty years that they raised and loved us like their own blood, right?"

Nytalia paused and turned around to look down on her sister. Daelia remained perfectly motionless. The drugs flowing in her system numbed any and all emotions she might have felt about her sister's flare up of anger. However, just because she did not show it, did not mean she was unperturbed by it.

Daelia knew that Nytalia was right about these sorts of thing. She was just being insensitive. Malana and Joru'Zorah were like flesh and blood in some ways, but no matter how much unconditional love and support they held for the orphaned Vael sisters, Daelia could not so easily forget her mother and father the same way that Nytalia apparently had… or the others they lost that day.

"Sorry… It's just… hormones," Nytalia mumbled as she strained to tie her heavy coat over her bulge. "Just… just come if you like, or I'll make your excuse up as I have every other week... I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

Daelia looked up into the pained expression of her sister and nodded. She wanted to say something, anything to affirm that she did love and respect the Zorah's, but she simply lacked the power to do so. Nytalia offered her a melancholy smile and a wave as she departed her sister's company.

As the door closed behind Nytalia, Daelia turned her dulled attention back to the monitor. The roundtable conversation was drawing to a close.

"_I want to thank all of our panelists this hour," _Bruckmann concluded. He turned to General Von Hoch and added,_ "It's a pleasure to find a Prussian Junker military man with a refreshing view."_

Jochen von Hoch smiled easily at the complement he received.

"_What can I say?" _the young general inclined his head to one side._ "The last thing I need right now are my parents calling me tonight to berate me for not defending the freedom's which they and my brother Gerald sacrificed so much for." _

As the panel concluded, guilt seeped into her drug laced mind. Daelia turned off the monitor and dragged herself off the couch. All she wanted now was to sleep and forget that this evening ever happened.

…

…


	4. Little Pushes

**Chapter Four: Little Pushes**

**...**

"_Adam Ackerson! Adam slow down this instant or I'll have you deported and your child formally adopted into the Hoch family!"_

The calling of his name made Adam freeze and turn back. He felt immediately guilty as he saw Hanala Hoch lagging so far behind him.

_Shit_… his head was somewhere else today. Deciding to take pity on the old woman, Adam sprinted back towards her, an apologetic expression on his face for the scowling former Admiral, who was tapping her foot, her arms crossed. Even at her age, Adam had to admit she was still somewhat intimidating. She was still the same woman who spent the better part of her life killing off her enemies.

To say that he had been distracted would have an understatement. It had been three days since his fateful night out - the night he stumbled into the odd enigma that was Daelia'Vael. He was filled with a strange, sickening feeling of regret that was fuelling him. It was an indictment of his passiveness which he must have developed at some point during the early stages of his fatherhood. He certainly wasn't shy in his late teens to mid-twenties.

Of course, this wasn't entirely his fault. While he might have been a much more cautious man then he once was. He did make it a point to ask Daelia'Vael for her contact information at the end of the night. She did not respond to the request. She just sort of mumbled a farewell and left in the next taxi that passed.

Perhaps… perhaps it had been a terrible evening for her. On top of being stood up, she was stuck in an awkward half-date that she did not feel comfortable committing to, but was too polite not to deny him her time. If that was the case, then he would have loved to at least apologize for placing her in that position. But no, instead he was stuck left with a feeling that he had done something terrible.

As Adam reached Hanala, he put on his smiling mask and erased any trace of emotion regarding his failure to capture the attention of another. The last thing, the absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was to display his vulnerabilities to a Hoch. It was not so much a fear that they would be cruel. It was just that the Hoch family was close. If one knew about something, it would be days… maybe hours before they all knew. And while most of them would respect his wishes to keep it private, John Hoch would inevitability be the one to interfere, and John's interference was rarely a good thing.

"I'm sorry Frau Hoch," Adam apologized right away. "I guess my mind was somewhere else... on Amala, I mean."

The flub seemed to have worked. Exhaling sharply, Hanala rolled her eyes and stepped forward to close the gap between them, one hand on her back. She had just finished her third kilometre around Greater Wannsee. It was a considerable accomplishment considering both her age and that this time, two years ago, she could barely hobble jog more than fifty metres thanks to her age and the lapse into apathy both her and Joachim collapsed in, as it seemed inevitable with old age.

But as they quickly learned, it was all in their head. The moment John Hoch hired him on as their personal physician, all of that sort of negative thinking all changed. Old age excuses were thrown completely out the window. Before they knew it, the couple were on vigorous daily exercise regiments of cardio, weight lifting, aerobics and swimming. Eventually it included a total diet and lifestyle change, which included Adam throwing out all of their alcohol and cigarettes. It must have been a real shock for them at the time. It was no surprise why Joachim Hoch absolutely abhorred him for the first year.

But as much as they wanted to complain, the results spoke for themselves, forcing the pair to respect what he was doing for them. Lung capacity improved, clarity from a sober mind sharpened them. They each lost quite a bit of weight and were now as healthy as they could be, considering their advance age and various reoccurring ailments. They were more or less back in the prime of their life. Well… Hanala was at least, Joachim was a little more lethargic judging by his conspicuous lack of willingness to be on today's lap around the lake.

"Well… return back to Earth while you're in my company, please," Hanala replied as stopped next to him. "I'm not as spry as you are."

Adam chuckled slightly at the remark and shook his head.

"Don't be so quick to count yourself out," he warmly reassured her. "At least you came for the run. More than I can say about that husband of yours."

Next to him, Hanala wheezed out a chuckle. She shook her head.

"Give him a break. When the grandchildren are around, you know Joachim isn't going to skip a visit even for an hour," Hanala defended her husband from Adam's scrutiny. "The same goes for me, naturally, but right now it's better to be out here with you… away from the means to communicate with the outside world…"

Adam did not get a chance to ask what the matter was. He really did not have a choice in it. When Hanala needed to unwind, she was going to unwind whether the person she was speaking to wanted to hear it or not.

"Keelah, Adam, it seems like every other day I get a letter from Kaiser Victor-Marius Ferdinand's stewards, asking me to be his counsel as I had been for his Grandfather," Hanala grumbled to him, picking up her pace to keep up with him. "Why don't they understand that I'm retired? I haven't played politics in over fifteen years. You could hand me the keys to the coffers of the Reich and I would still refuse."

All Adam could really do was smile sympathetically.

These were matters; Adam could honestly say he had no clue to aid her with. He wasn't a politician, he hadn't been in the military for nearly eleven years, and even then he did not make it over the rank of Feldwebel. These were things beyond his understanding. All he knew was what Hanala was saying, and judging on her words, it sounded as though she had to have offered the Kaiser before Victor some very sound advice.

Louis-Ferdinand was a good and just Kaiser, who instead of abusing his power, sought to re-establish the Reichstag and successfully forced the Wehrmacht Council into the Casablanca deal. Only hours before the Casablanca Peace Summit, the new Kaiser gathered the leaders of the Wehrmacht Council and brought forth the deal that stood to this day: The Kaiser would hand over authority of the Reich to the Wehrmacht in times of dire emergency. In return, the Wehrmacht would not interfere with the creation of the new Reichstag government and swear their fealty to Hohenzollern family in peacetime with the solemn promise that no Kaiser would interfere in the affairs of the military unless said future Kaiser was inside the Wehrmacht General Staff before his ascendancy to the throne.

All in all, this deal satisfied the Wehrmacht immensely. Never again would they have to serve at the will of incompetent military leaders like Wilhelm II or the whims of a gifted amateur, but dangerously stubborn man, like Hitler again. They would control the virtually all aspects of the nation in a state of war and would relinquish control when a third party –the Quarian Mandate- declared the emergency had passed.

"Nostalgia I suppose," Adam replied after the moment silence. "Most of the advisors remember when you were the centre of the political dealings to the Kaiser."

Next to him he saw Hanala roll her eyes in apparent disgust at the statement.

"_Nostalgia_… great, so it's official: I am now a relic to be used as some sort of image campaign. I am officially the quarian Otto von Bismarck," Hanala complained as she took Adam's arm. "Do me a favour Adam and don't get old. It's a terrible thing. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemies... which is probably why I had all my old enemies killed in their youth."

Hanala sighed and trailed off, shaking her head wearily. She did not seem to notice that her words somewhat shocked Adam. She turned her eyes back to Adam and scanned him carefully. She seemed to have noticed something.

"And what about you, Adam?" she spoke again. "You are not exactly the pinnacle display of concentration today. Is there something wrong?"

Remaining silent, Adam turned away. The last thing he wanted to do was trouble a woman of her renown with something as petty as an infatuation that was plaguing him to no end. But as he felt Hanala squeeze his arm, he knew better than to keep a heavy silence between them. Hanala was an excellent judge in people and stubborn. She would need to be placated before he got a break from her curiosity.

"No… well, I guess I'm already worrying about next year," Adam confessed to the Grandmother. "Amala starts Kindergarten and I've got free time to myself for the first time in years. I'm not sure with what I'm going to do with all that."

It wasn't exactly what was on his mind that kept him distracted today. However it was not a flat out lie either. Amala was growing up and Adam would never be able to maintain a life that was devoted 120 percent around her. She had to be given a chance to go out there and explore her world and herself. She did not need an obsessive helicopter parent keeping her grounded. She was only four, about to turn five, but it was better to start small detachments sooner than later.

"Well, you had best find something for yourself, Adam," Hanala warned him. Her tone amused by his half-truth. "Being a parent does not mean you have to dedicate every waking moment to a child. You are permitted to having some sort of life."

Happy that the experienced parent had come to the exact same conclusion, Adam nodded and let go of the octogenarian. Cracking his shoulders, he picked up his pace and turned back to Hanala. Adam clapped his hands together.

"Alight, enough talk," Adam barked at her, feigning a disciplinarian tone. "Give me one more kilometre and we'll speed walk the rest of the way back, Hanala."

All Hanala could do was scowl at him at first. It was a facial expression that made Adam grin.

"Oh Keelah… I hate you, boy... I really, _REALLY_ do." She growled as she sped up her pace to match his.

**…**

* * *

**…**

The Hoch family Wannsee summer home was literally packed with Hoch's when Hanala and Adam finally returned from their jog. It was not exactly an uncommon sight on the weekend, as Hanala and Joachim more or less decreed to their children that no matter what, everyone came home on Saturday to sit down to a nice family dinner. It was not always achieved, but at least it was a conscious effort to do so and usually most of the children came home.

It was rather nice Adam always thought. If he had to guess why this tradition had been started, he supposed it would have been between Joachim likely swearing that the Hoch family was not going to be as distant as the Hoch family he grew up with and Hanala, whose own parents were so busy managing the Migrant fleet, they too did not spend as much time together as she would have liked. They went out of their way to be there for their children, which Adam loved and intended on emulating with Amala when she was grown up.

Like Joachim, Adam too was never particularly close to his birth family either. His parents were divorced from an early; his siblings Stephen and Lauren were set on their different ideas of how to live life. The only thing that unified them was the topic of Adam answering the Fatherland's call when he was only 17. They could not believe it when at Christmas he announced his intentions of leaving North America to go to the two places that they were all taught to fear and hate.

In the end, it took over 8 years for Adam to pluck up the courage to return home. No longer in the Wehrmacht, but a rookie physician just hired by John Hoch and bringing home with him a two year old girl no less. To say it must have been a surprise was an understatement. The trip home did not exactly go well and within a week and a half, he left. Canada, Vancouver, his family… they were just not who he was anymore. It was a terrible feeling to lose what nostalgia he may have had, but at least he knew that he belonged in his adopted Reich.

As Hanala and Adam entered the home, they were immediately overwhelmed by Jochen and Constanze von Hoch's brood of six children… seven judging from Constanze's maternity dress and the excited expression Joachim Hoch was wearing as he spoke to his daughter-in-law. Giving Jochen a nod and deciding to give the Hoch's some space, Adam excused himself from Hanala's company and slipped away further into the home.

"_Adaaam… you're all sweaty,"_ he heard catcalled at him_. "Would you like me to help rectify that?"_

Adam swung his head around as giggling broke. Sitting in the lounge were the twins, Haeva and Erika. Although it had been Haeva's cat call, it was both of them were clearly intoxicated and leering at him like he was their personal boy toy. Adam chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck as Haeva stood up and staggered slightly towards him.

"As always, a tempting offer Haeva… and you, Erika, but that Generalmajor brother of yours is here," Adam replied as he backed away, offering the two women a playful grin. "The last thing I need is to be skinned alive by him, right?"

Haeva smirked and buried her face back into her tall glass of hard liquor. Erika flashed her teeth and waved, all her fingers wagging one by one up and down. Shaking his head, Adam left before the two clearly sexually dominate women decided to make true on their offer. Those two were sheer trouble that he did not want to step into.

Erasing the lewd thoughts about the two older women, John paused as tapping caught his attention first and then found himself looking at an increasingly rare sight to see. Sitting on the bottom steps leading upstairs was Galina. Her data pads scattered around her as she worked. Her hair was frazzled as though she was dragged out of bed to be here, or perhaps she hadn't slept at all. Whatever the case it was nice to see her out and about.

"Hello Galina," he greeted her politely. "I take it John is in?"

Galina bucked her head up. She looked as though she was a woman possessed. Her shock vanished and instead she gave him a flash of a smile before turning her head back to her datapad. Her eyes were darting back and forth as she read the code, or whatever it was in front of her.

"Yes," she spoke, clearly exacerbated by that fact apparently. "He, Amala and Candace are being obnoxiously loud. I was told specifically by John that we would be spending the afternoon working on nervous system filters."

Amala and Candace… of course it was them. Both Amala and Erika's daughter when combined with Uncle John was trouble. Amala looked up to Candace as though she was her sibling. It was sweet, and as much as Adam liked that Amala too was finding connections inside the Hoch family, but good god could they get in trouble! It also did not help when John was involved. He was every bit the instigator in the second generation of Hoch children as he likely had been in the first.

"Well you know John, he has to be the cool Uncle," Adam mused as he stepped by Galina, carefully avoiding messing up her scattered work. "Perhaps I can settle it down a little, okay?"

As Galina murmured a _"Thank you"_ to him without looking up to him, Adam paused and shook his head. Something very familiar washed over him. He quickly shook it off and purged the concept that Galina seemed somehow… different to him.

**…**

* * *

**…**

"That's it, Candace… kill the Soviets! Burn them out of their hole! Use the flamethrower! Make it their funeral pyre!"

John exploded into a cheer as he watched Cadence swing her Jagdpanzer 38(t) Hetzer with flamethrower modification down into the Soviet trench and poured gallons of tar and gasoline fire onto the enemy line. John howled out in excitement and raised his Mg-42 to spray the conscripts screaming as they stumbled out of the trench in flames. He stood up and climbed onto the back of the Jagdpanzer and together they charged over the line.

"What is this?"

Looking away from the screen, John grinned as he looked at the flabbergasted Adam Ackerson, standing there coated in sweat and in a muscle shirt and shorts. Ignoring Candace's protests, John paused '_Kampfgruppe 3: Road to Moscow'_ and stood up from the spot on the floor he was sprawled on, laying in between Candace and Amala, who was still on the ground, eating the imported American candies he had bought for them.

"Look who it is, Amala," he playfully jeered. "Your dad is here to stink up the study!"

Adam crossed his arms. He was clearly annoyed by what he was looking at.

"Better to stink then play video games and eat candy," Adam stated flatly to the three of them. In response, Candace stuck her tongue out at him and blew a raspberry in his general direction, John joined in by groaning theatrically at the health nut.

"Nuh-uh!" Amala defended herself fiercely from her Father's displeasure.

"Let them have some fun, you spoilsport," John roared at Adam. Exhaling he turned to the girls and added. "We'll continue this game later. The Soviets think they can beat us? We'll show them not to mess with us**!"**

Candace launched herself up from the floor.

"_Smash the Bolshevik bastards!" _Candace screamed. Her fist flew into the air for a moment before she did a perfect imitation of her uncle Jochen, goosestep and all. It took all of John's efforts not to explode into laughter, or scream out orders at her to make the sight feel even more complete.

"_Communism is slavery!"_ Amala echoed her pseudo-sibling. Whether she knew or not what she was saying was unknown to John. Unlike Candace, who stormed out Amala gathered up all the sweets for them to wolf down before Adam seized it from them and followed Candace out of the room, only pausing as Adam reached down to peck the top of her head.

Adam straightened up and turned back to face John, who buried his hands into his jeans and attempted to not flat out laugh. This was everything Adam tried to keep Amala away from.

"Teaching them anti-communism, and loading them up on sugar?" Adam observed, for the first time sounding somewhat amused "Nice, real nice, John. Thanks for the help."

John waved his hand in the air and brushed off his shirt. He walked over to the desk and took a seat. His eyes followed Adam closely. Erika, Haeva and Mother had all told him that Adam had been acting strangely for the past several days. He was steadfast silent about the matter, but it was obvious that something was up with him. So far their assessment seemed correct. Adam seemed significantly tenser than usual.

So in his typical M.O, John decided to take the direct root.

"Adam, you're being a mopey bastard for the past three days. Don't bullshit me like you did the others… what's up?" John decided to call out to him. Three days was more than enough time to give the doctor his space. Now it was time to figure out what in the hell was up with him.

Adam turned and looked at him. He stared at John incredulously, as though he was surprised that he was being called out. Standing up, John did not blink, he did not breathe; he simply held the stare he inherited from his Father on the younger man. It was the expression that told everyone it was best to not fuck around with him.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Adam stepped forward.

"I went out for drinks the other night… sort of an order by your Father, you see," he reluctantly admitted to his employer. "I think I might have met someone... She was stood up by her date, so I invited her for a drink. We ended up having dinner…"

Relaxing his expression, John had to admit that he was rather surprised by this turn of events. Since… well since the death of his wife, Adam wasn't exactly the pinnacle of interaction. He stayed close to home and stepped carefully around others. Now he was going out, drinking and meeting women? It was a refreshing change up…

"That's great to hear," John found his voice. "So what's the problem?"

Adam groaned and pressed his hand to his face.

"I didn't get any of her information!" Adam angrily retorted, his anger directed to himself. "I've been searching social media with what I know, but I turned up nothing at all. I asked, but she just sort of fled. Am I that terrible?"

Wincing at the cringe-inducing failure that was Adam Ackerson, John stepped forward. This was unbelievably embarrassing.

"So let me get this straight," John clarified aloud, his mouth spreading wide open as he clasped his younger friend on the back. "You need old John Hoch to help get you laid?"

Adam's head snapped up and stared at John.

"_What_?" Adam cried out in dismay. "No! I mean, a date would suffice… I think a date is preferable then just sex."

John's laughter only intensified at Adam's denial of his personal needs. Christ, who the hell was he trying to fool? The poor guy clearly only had one meaningful personal relationship at the moment, and that was with his child. He needed something more or he would end up as stir crazy as most pious people became.

"Laid," John repeated, feigning an obvious nature as he absorbed what Adam really wanted. "After four years of chastity, Adam Ackerson is ready to ride the next girl who opens her legs for him."

John stood up and wandered over to the liquor cabinet. This conversation called for a celebratory drink. He was proud that his friend was finally ready to step out of the comfort zone he had hid himself inside of for the better part of four years. John was not completely heartless to the reasons why he did it, but a year was sufficient, two was pushing. But Adam in his nobility, or perhaps grief just had to make it nearly half a decade.

"You know, the last thing you'll want is a relationship right now," John mused as he pulled out a bottle of forty year old scotch whiskey. "Better to keep it casual while you bang the rust off your cock, am I right?"

"Sweet Jesus _Christ_," Adam groaned, utterly infuriated by John's words in record time, "why did I even tell you this!?"

Pouring the scotch into two scotch glasses, John stood up straight as he carried the drinks over to the commiserating Adam. His hand was on the back of his head as though this whole thing had been one serious embarrassment to him. It did not take a genius to figure out why. There once was a time when Adam was able to charm even the most reserve woman into going on a date… namely in his case Alexandria McKellan all those years ago.

To Adam's credit, it was a feat that John was incapable of doing in the thirty years he had known her, and not for a lack of trying on his part. She was a damn good woman and out of all the women he knew outside of his family, she was one of only two women was a direct challenge he had ever gotten, and of the two, the only one that he never slept with. He supposed they were like mirrored reflections -close, inescapable, but untouchable to one another…

_Jesus Christ_… John missed the hell out of her.

"Because you're socially retarded and you can't seal the deal anymore," John carefully explained as though Adam had been a toddler, his humour forcing the dull pain in his gut to recede. "Not to worry, I'll get you riding that horse again. So, what's her name then?"

As John handed Adam his two fingers of scotch and ice, he smirked openly at the angry expression on the younger doctor's face. It was so very easy to rile him up over a few colourful words directed at him. It was all in good nature and by now Adam most certainly had to understand that. He did not press the topic as they sipped their drinks. It was better to just let Adam's natural inclination to tell the truth wash over him.

It did not take particularly long to get what he wanted in the end.

"Her name is Daelia'Vael," Adam finally spoke to him, still a little leery about telling John this sort of information freely. "She lives in Pankow; she mentioned she had a sister. Not much else was revealed during our interaction. She liked to be sparse on conversation. She wasn't cold or aloof or anything… she just seemed… shy, I suppose."

_Vael… Daelia'Vael…_ John buried any and all desire to react as he listened to Adam go about describing a young woman that he already knew about in passing.

She was not Daelia'Vael -not anymore at least. She was, in fact, Daelia'Zorah, the adopted child of Joru'Zorah, who in turn was the youngest son of the late Admiral Halid'Zorah. Joru was only five or six years older than John was. Both he and his young wife, Malana adopted two orphaned girls from the torn up Vael clan in mid-1978 following the death of their entire family at the hands of Islamist terrorists as a part of the long guerrilla campaign against the quarians following the annexation of nearly the entirety of the region.

It was a tragic story, to be sure, but all of this was just heard by him in passing second hand. All of this occurred just after he had gotten home and was putting together all his resources together to unlock quarian technology and get his funding together to start Daedalus Foundation. The Zorah family was naturally watched very closely by the Jarva/Hoch family considering their long tumultuous past dealings with the conniving bastard of a patriarch Halid'Zorah. John himself had his dealings with Halid in the years leading up to his death in 1988. But for the most part the latest incantation of the Zorah family had mellowed out significantly. They had taken back up their traditional role as soldiers to the quarian people.

Simple, perhaps, but preferable to the web of deceit and manipulation that the family collapsed into during the early days. Even Father was starting to see the value in the Zorah clan, and that miserable bastard spent the year serving as Zorah's sledgehammer!

"A quarian… interesting," John finally spoke to Adam. "Have you ever been with a quarian before? Wear a condom for the first time or so. The itch is terrible. I know it's not something I should bring up, but my Father warned all of my brothers and me about having sex with members of the opposite species by age 12. Let me tell you right now just how fucking traumatizing having to listen to your Father talk about sex with your mother..."

"John!" Adam roared out, he appeared both scandalized and embarrassed that Hoch had probably delved a little too deep into personal details. John chuckled as he cross one leg over the other and watched as John leaned against the table. He was clearly flustered by the topic at hand had spiralled so far out of his control.

"Look, this isn't _just_ about sex, John," he spoke again, keeping his voice as steady as it could. "She's just… _interesting_. I want to see her again to see if she's the real thing."

As Adam bowed his head slightly, not paying mind to John, who was squinting at him. There was something different in the way Adam was speaking. It was something he hadn't seen in many years now. Adam had only one passion these days, and that was Amala. What was happening here and now was a flickering of life that Adam swore up and down would likely never happen again.

Well despite his uneasiness with handing Adam over to adopted members of clan Zorah, he would not discourage this either. John made a promise to their mutual connection. He would make sure that Adam would carry on with his life. That he was not going to be left alone to raise a child. While having a family more or less adopt him as one of their own had covered much of what he needed, now it seemed as though the second part of his promise to the late Alexandria McKellan… Ackerson… would now come into effect.

"Right… you're the nice doctor who is only fascinated by what makes her tick…" John sighed as he uncrossed his legs and stood. "Tell you what; I can make some inquiries into the whereabouts your mystery girl. Will that make you wipe that stupid, mopey expression off your face?"

For the first time today, Adam broke his serious demeanour down and permitted himself to laugh. As Adam laughed John went for his cigarettes; but the moment he had one in between his lips, Adam reached out, snatched it from him and broke it.

"You know the rules," Adam snapped out his warning to him. "You hired me to help for a reason, right?"

John rolled his eyes as he remembered just how much of an anti-smoking Nazi Adam was when it came to smoking in the house of John's parents. He bought the house, he paid Adam's salary. Why the hell couldn't he have a cigarette for fuck's sake!?

"It would certainly help stop my 'moping'," Adam sighed finally. "I appreciate what you want to do. But please… could you just give me the information and not interfere? I would prefer it if I did this… you know… on my own time."

John stared at Adam for a moment before he nodded and stepped forward until he was within arms-length of the young Father.

"Of course Adam," John reassured Adam with a pat on his shoulder. "What do you take me for? My noisy sisters?"

**…**

* * *

**…**

John glanced at his Rolex. All in all, it took him about an hour to get enough information to pass onto Adam about the whereabouts of this Daelia'Vael woman. All of this could have been given to Adam in a minute or two flat, but as it turned out, John was very much like his noisy sisters, so John decided he had himself a little distraction for Sunday thanks to Adam's failure to secure a date with a chemically imbalanced woman.

Smoking a cigarette in the back seat of his Mercedes, John leaned backwards into his seat. He was currently parked outside of the residence of Jorah and Nytalia'Xen. As he did so, John glanced around to one side as Isabella Ochoa walked down the pathway leading to little home situated just on the outskirts of Potsdam, her jacket open and her sidearm sticking conspicuously out. Why Isabella was here was more of an assurance to the clients than a necessity.

Then again, it wasn't exactly the first time someone tried to ambush him. Perhaps it was better to have Ochoa along after all.

But all of this was an old hat for him, really. While being an industrialist certainly didn't help safeguard him, simply being a Hoch by itself was a rarely safe thing to be. It wasn't until the late 1970's, early 1980's that it became safe enough for the family to not have to look over their shoulder at all times. He remembered in his youth having a personal guard detail provided to Mother and Father when they still held ranks. The Cold War and the many enemies they made during the Civil War made their paranoia justified.

As Isabella reached the car door, John dabbed out his cigarette and waited as Isabella opened the door. She was not looking at him, but rather across the street. John glanced in the direction as well. Across the street was what appeared to be a rather lethal looking flock of middle aged women jogging together and chattering loudly to one another.

"No hidden assassin hiding in the bushes?" he mused as he stood up straight and buttoned his jacket up. "No one claiming I fathered their illegitimate child?"

Isabella slammed the door shut behind him and scowled at the remark her boss offered. She reached over and straightened his tie on his behalf.

"Really funny, boss," she muttered as she tightened the knot. "You know I have to justify my stupidly high take in somehow."

Patting Isabella's cheek twice, John gave her a wink and wandered past her down the pathway to the two-story home. His hands dug into his pockets as a sudden gust of wind picked up. He stopped as soon as he climbed the few stairs and knocked hard on the front door. As he waited, he turned around in spot and pulled out his small flask and took a drink. He smirked as he noticed Ochoa leaning against the car, her eyes rolling as she saw her lush of a boss indulge himself.

As soon as he took a swig, he pocketed the flask. He heard the door unlock and crack open. He swung right around and found himself looking at the image of a quarian Venus standing before him. She appeared frazzled, as though she had been disturbed from her nap. Her hand was supporting the unmistakable bulge of a child.

"Hello," John greeted her warmly. "You would not happen to be Nytalia'Xen by any chance?"

The pregnant quarian woman's eyes bulged outwards naturally. It was sort of an expected response that John rather liked if he was being honest. It was good for his ego, which could always fine the time for a good inflation.

"I take it that you are you aware of who I am?" He tacked on.

There was no note of arrogance or smugness in his voice –or so he hoped at least- it was just a curiosity to make sure. He remained silent as the woman seemed to struggle to find a way to say yes. Defeated, Nytalia'Xen simply nodded her head in a strained acknowledgement.

"Good, that will save some time," John replied briskly. "May I come in? I promise you I will keep this brief."

He smiled again as the woman stepped out of the doorway and gestured to join her inside. John stepped in and glanced around the house for a good long moment. He then turned back to the owner, who was picking a few items up in a vain attempt to unclutter, as though she was embarrassed.

"Can I make you anything?" Nytalia suddenly asked. Embarrassed by her outburst, she rubbed her neck and sheepishly added, "I don't exactly stock our home with food edible for humans, but I know I have teabags… just no dairy and sugar…

Fine with the lack of condiments, John inclined his head and watched as the woman stepped away to put the kettle on. As she left, it gave John an opportunity to look around undisturbed. His eyes scanned the many pictures on the wall. Two separate families were on display, as if one family took over after the other was wiped out.

Only one constant remained in Nytalia's family display, and that was Daelia. Her expression hidden behind dark locks was almost always the same: A bewilderment, or perhaps shyness. Never a smile crossed her mouth. She was clearly uncomfortable in the images. It was an expression that John knew all too well about.

Was this really something Adam would be able to handle? If it had been and knowing Adam's penchant for being the toy to older women, then John would have went out of his way in hooking him up with Galina. There was a reason why Galina had little in the way of interaction with people outside her immediate family, and by immediate family he meant her parents and siblings. Nieces, nephews, the spouses, they got zero in the way of interaction.

As sensitive as he was to HOCCD -Hyperactive Obsessive Comprehension and Compulsion Disorder, John knew better than to sugar-coat the condition, or how much this sort of relation could damage everything and everyone involved. It would be hell to befriend someone with the disorder, let alone date one… and on top of that introduce a child into the mix. And as complicated as it was going to be for Adam, it would quite easily become a nightmare for Daelia. There would be too many variables for her, too much chaos and a lack of control. She would have to put a herculean effort into keeping herself under control.

As he heard heavy footsteps trudge behind him, John turned away and smiled yet again as soon as Nytalia joined him once again.

"This is quite the lovely little home you've made," he complimented as he stepped forward. Gesturing to her, he added. "And by the way, my congratulations on your future bundle of joy. Rannoch will need all the young settlers it can get."

Nytalia emitted a small, nervous laugh as she rubbed the back of her neck. As John pulled off his overcoat, she stepped forward and took it from his hands.

"Thank you," she murmured as she hung the jacket up on her coat rack. "I… don't mean to be rude, Herr Hoch, I assume you did not come here to discuss the future of my unborn child."

As John stared at her for a careful moment, he wondered privately if he should make an apology. Perhaps he was coming across as to debonair for her taste. He had to remember that he wasn't here to sleep with the poor women, but to help to achieve a mutual interest…

"You see, I came here on behalf of someone," John started back up once again, dialling back his tone significantly. "It is of concern to you, but not something that is directed at you. It has to do with your sister… do you know where I am going with this?"

Naturally, Nytalia looked at John as though he had had causally announced he had shot her husband.

"Why, your dear little sister of course!" John exclaimed brightly "Well… you see she has left my friend with an aching heart and too stupid and cowed to do anything about it. I normally don't play Cupid for a grown man, but I am getting tired of watching him mope around pretending that his heart isn't buried in his stomach."

He watched as a dawning of realization cross over Nytalia's expression.

"His name is Adam Ackerson?" Nytalia guessed with a small smile etched on her mouth.

John erupted into a triumphant laugh.

"So he _did_ leave an impression on her," Adam replied rather proudly. "It's good to hear that he's not a complete charmless idiot."

The woman broke down into a soft laugh and a mild grin at John's observation

"Well he certainly did. My sister isn't exactly a social creature. The fact that he was willing to give her all the room she needed was greatly appreciated by her," she spoke quite happily. "Daelia was… well _upset_ with herself that she did not wait long enough to listen to what he had…"

Ceasing her explanation, Nytalia smiled and quickly left the company of John as the whistling of the kettle caught their attention. John exhaled and left the main foyer of the home took a seat in the living room. More holo pictures greeted him once again, this time more varied. They were wedding photos and mementos mostly. Apparently Nytalia and her husband were well travelled for quarians. Quarians rarely ventured outside the mandate and Reich, but here they were photographed on the Great Wall, Saint Petersburg and somewhere in Oceania… Was it New Zealand perhaps? It had to have been, Australia was sheer desert.

John had to admit it was sort of funny to wonder why the quarians didn't just wipe out all the Australians and claim the continent as their own. It would have been of no significant loss to the world. They were just a fake people with a fake identity… what was the point of their existence?

Where ever it was, it impressed John. It was rare to find a quarian willing to venture outside of their comfort zone and into the primitive world they were in exile on. It was sort of hard to convince a quarian to part with the creature comforts that came with their embrace of technology. It was an addiction John knew all too well of.

As Nytalia returned with a cup of tea for John, he stood up and accepted it with a nod and a murmur of '_thanks'_ for her hospitality. He waited until she sat before returned to his seat to sip his piping hot tea carefully. A heavy silence fell between them as the woman shuffled backwards into her seat to take a load off. Her eyes never left him. Apparently she was still struggling to come to grip that John Hoch was sitting in her living room, drinking her cheap tasting tea in a conversation about dating of all things.

"What stage is she?" John spoke up as he set his tea down on the coffee table.

Nytalia seemed somewhat startled by the question. Her eyes darted all over John's face, as if looking for an explanation. With an exhale, John smiled yet again as he looped his fingers together.

"My baby sister, Galina is a Stage 3-b," John explained, hoping to ease her into the conversation. "She could have very easily became a lost case had it not been for her specialized education programs and implantations at an early age. I'm going to take a wild stab and guess that Daelia had a fit when she realized that sort of missed a rather large chunk of her interaction."

As John's admission of personal understanding of the struggles that came with being in a close relationship with a person afflicted with HOCCD seemed to strike a nerve in Nytalia, John took his tea back into his hands and sipped it once again.

"They are candid, aren't they?" he tacked on, offering a grin behind his cup.

Nytalia exploded into a laugh that rocketed throughout the home. Almost immediately her hand flew up and slapped right over her mouth. Her eyes wide like she had done some sort of great evil at laughing at the expense of her sibling. It was not the reaction John would have thought to stifle. If there was one thing he learned from 37 years of being siblings with Galina, it was that she never wanted to be coddled… she just wanted to be treated the same… even if it meant she was at the butt of a joke or blunt observation.

"Yes…" Nytalia admitted shyly, "Daelia has very little in the way of varying degrees of communication. Either she's brutally honest, or she's silent as the grave."

It was John's turn to chuckle.

"Yeah, I know that," John concurred. "When Galina was 13 she was doing a project about her family tree. She stood up quite nonchalantly and told her classmates that our mother had six miscarriages before she was conceived… and the kids called her '_Seven'_ for years. She did not acknowledge it until my two other sisters heard it uttered two years after the nickname stuck. You can probably imagine the reaction of my parents if you know of them, even in passing."

John watched as Nytalia's expression became more and more upset with John's little anecdote about his sibling. Perhaps it was a little too personal for a strange to know, but it served a point. At least it did in his head. What he was looking at was another version of his brother Jochen's relationship with Galina. He loved her, but he did not understand her. And in his lack of understanding, he chose instead to pity or, or worse, dismiss her altogether.

"That's… well, that's horrifying," she whispered sympathetically. "Your poor sister…"

John shook his head as he crossed one leg over the other.

"Yes, it was horrifying… but she learned from it, and she's better for it," John explained to her. "It made her stronger… and willing to speak up when she feels something is wrong, but the anxiety screams not to respond… and more able to pay attention to the world around her rather than shield herself…"

Silence fell yet again as he let Nytalia stew in what he was saying. His sister was the pinnacle of strength, but that only happened through personal pain and humiliation on her part. It fuelled her resolve and in the end made her as willful as any of the other mentally healthy Hoch's.

"My sister is a stage 2a," Nytalia blurted out to John finally. "She's independent, but she has her incidents. She generally does not want my help whenever things get too out of hand. The day she turned of age she packed her bags and left the mandate. She hasn't been back since. I followed her here. I still prefer the Mandate. It's where my roots are. But…"

"-But as her sister, whom you love unconditionally… you have centred your life on her," John filled in her silence. "I understand that quite well, believe me."

Leaving the young woman somewhat stunned, Adam swallowed the last of the tea and uncrossed his legs. He stood up and watched as the woman did the same. Deciding that was all he was going to speak to her about, John reached into his jacket and produced a small data card for Nytalia to do as she pleased – preferably the right thing and give it to her younger sibling so that she could take a chance on something.

"Here is all of Adam's contact information," John informed her as he extended the card out to Nytalia. "I was going to ask you for Daelia's, but I think it would be better on Daelia that she make the first move. She might be more comfortable about it. Last thing I imagine she'd want is a strange man calling her… and with that I'll take my leave."

Nytalia stared at the card for a good, long moment. She did not appear to be entirely convinced with everything John was saying to her. John could understand her scepticism. He was, after all, a stranger telling an expectant mother not to coddle someone she cleared loved as much as the child she was carrying.

As sweet as that may have been, ultimately Daelia'Vael was not in need of another mother. She needed to explore outside of the insular world she designed for herself. And she needed Nytalia to be the pillar that supported such a brave move.

Finally after her deliberation, Nytalia reached out and took it from him and held onto as though it was worth more than gold. She frowned again and met his receptive expression with an inquisitive grimace.

"Do you think this is right?" she questioned him. "A human and a quarian, I mean. I… I know that you're come from that sort of home…. but…"

She trailed off helplessly. She clearly meant no offense, so John did not take any away from her concerns. He understood where she was coming from There was a reason why interspecies relationship rarely passed a percentage point. Despite how close the races were, there were still huge gaps in between them. There was simply no guarantee a relation could last… but then again, the same could be said about any other.

"It's not up to us to decide that for her, or him… but I know all too well what you're saying. It's going to be hard work. My sister tried it and ended up divorced…" John spoke as he stepped out of the living room and into the foyer once again, Nytalia hot on his heels. "But frankly Daelia is damaged goods, and so is Adam. I think that if they have something in common, then perhaps they have a chance at something that lasts."

Taking the suddenly confused young woman's hand, John squeezed it for a moment before he collected his jacket and opened the door to leave.

"Wait…" Nytalia spoke as John stepped outside, one hand on her stomach as she followed him onto the front steps. "And just how is he damaged?"

Smiling privately, John washed it off quickly as he turned back to face Nytalia, who was staring at him with her arms crossed.

"Ahhh… but that's a mystery your sister is going to have to find out for herself," John replied as he stepped backwards towards Isabella and his car. "Thank you for the tea… I'm sure we'll be in contact quite soon..."

With that, John left a very confused quarian in his wake. Sort of an old hat, but hey, it was a new way of sorts…this time John hadn't left her violated.

**…**

* * *

**…**

**This took a little longer. Sorry. I was writing stuff that I shouldn't write yet. I'm finding that the problem with the next generation is the questions I get about it.**

**You see I impulsively want to answer right away. I have all these plans that want to get out right away. Questions of heritage for example. I can't answer them for the stories sake. I have to wait for the right moment to introduce it or else you get an information overload in the first 3-5 chapters over a multi-story series and I'm left writing a lot of filler.**

**I've been doing some consideration. I have decided I am going to tighten this Generation up a bit. I will be trying to limit both size (150 thousand words or less per story) and the amount of sequels it will have. So far I have cut it down to three. **

**Next chapter we will begin looking into Jochen von Hoch's world.**

_"This makes not only organic military presence necessary, but Ausftragtakik –or mission-type tactics a vital necessity," Jochen explained Von Manstein's techical explaination in simple terms. The commanders on the ground are given a general order by their superior officer. How they set about it is at the prerogative of the officers and men in the action._

_"A tactic that made the actions of the Wehrmacht in the nations they invaded permissible, no matter how horrifying they were," the Danish defence minister spoke a mutter. "It helped the Generals sleep better at night."_

_As the non-Germanic ministers laughed at the shot, Jochen twisted around to defend his predecessors from the Dane's insults. He was stopped however by Von Manstein who gave him a warning look and a clasp on his shoulder. Manstein's warning was clear. Now was not the time to cause an international incident The Pan European alliance that was the European Union had to become a military alliance as well as an economic one. Even if the Danes were lucky to provide perhaps a division, they still needed all the boots on the ground that they could muster for the inevitable battles to smash the geth networks across the Perseus Veil…_

_If their loyalty had a price tag that included insults, then Jochen supposed he had to keep his temper in check. He would not forget it however. If they agreed to the terms, it would be Danish boots that hit the ground fire first if he was placed in charge of them. It was high time for the Scandinavians to relearn what sacrifice truly meant. It was an education which only the Finns understood these days._

**Would you guys like previews if they are available? Or would you not to be teased. Be sure to voice your opinion. Thanks for reading.**


	5. An Encounter

**Sorry for the delay.**

**…**

* * *

**…**

**Chapter Five: An Encounter**

**…**

Staring at her holomessenger for the 36th time that day, Daelia'Vael sighed as her fingers twirled the data card which had held the source of her sudden fear. She could not keep delaying this. Not for as long as she already had. Today was the day where she stopped acting like a nervous child and acted her age.

Nytalia had dropped by two days ago. Unexpected, unwarranted, but still it was welcomed she supposed. It would not be long before she gave birth and dedicated herself towards motherhood rather than keeping an eye on Daelia long after she needed to be watched. She loved her sister, naturally. She also understood that was just how a family operated and that Nytalia was just doing what she thought was the right thing.

It seemed that after her initial uneasiness that her sister had been in the company of a human, it appeared that Nytalia had become interested in the whole affair. So much so that she did her own research into the whereabouts of Adam Ackerson. It was significantly more successful than Daelia's own half-hearted attempt. She had somehow found his contact information within days of their last encounter. Even if it times it felt like it was a bit much for her to handle.

Honestly, Daelia did not know just how to feel about it. On one hand a small part of her wanted to hug her sister for finding this information out. But mostly now she was now weary. No longer did she have an excuse not to get in contact with Adam Ackerson. So now for the past two days, she would sit near her holoprojector and holomessenger and try to figure just how she was going to go about contacting him.

Perhaps it would have just been easier for her to forget the whole affair. It was just one stupid night, where she trusted her sister to go out and now it snowballed into a whole matter she was no longer sure she even wanted to explore. Nytalia's encouragements could have just been a front. A means to find Daelia some new company to... well... pawn her off onto. Perhaps it was not quite that sinister, but Daelia could not deny that Nytalia must have had some sort of ulterior motivation. Both she and Jorah were not exactly on the best of terms. Perhaps it was his request so that Daelia did not disturb them while they adjusted to parenthood.

Or… perhaps she was just being paranoid again…

Exhaling, Daelia buried her face in one hand, her head tilted backwards to drink a glass of water. She had to admit that there was a strong possibility that she was just being pessimistic to a fault. She did find Adam interesting, and he was interested in her enough to at least try to give her his number before she fled. Perhaps she was just overthinking things again. It tended to occur when she was placed in a highly stressful situation in which she was not 100 percent certain of the outcome.

Picking up the handful of her prescription pills she took on a daily basis, Daelia swallowed them and took another drink. Her hand waved over her holomessenger system and turned on _call only_ mode and tapped in the service number of Adam Ackerson's line. She could handle a call, but a face to face connection would be a little tougher on her for the moment… one thing at the time.

As the call connected, Daelia fought the overriding urge to hang up to the best of her ability. Her body was shaking as her mind kicked into overdrive. She was feeling far too sick already…

"_Hello?"_

Daelia's fear and illness froze up as the familiar voice ringed through her head. This was no long a theoretical conversation. This was the real thing and she was already freezing up!

"_Is anyone there?"_ Adam Ackerson's voice called from the other end. _"Do you have a connection problem?"_

It took all of her willpower, but not only did Daelia not hang up her line; she found it in herself to speak.

"No it's fine…" she managed to say, her eyes shut tightly. "This is… well, Daelia... Daelia'Vael. Is this Adam…? Adam Ackerson?"

A pause greeted her at first. It lasted no more than five seconds, but those five seconds felt like forever for her.

"Yes it is," Adam humoured her with note of amusement. "You know, I was afraid I'd never hear from you again, Miss Vael. You fled rather quickly. If I did anything to offend you, then please accept my apology."

_His apology?_ It was not Adam who ran out without a second thought. It was not Adam who tuned her out… at least as far she recalled it hadn't been. She remained silent as she put some thought into the evening which had occurred a week and a half ago. No, as far she knew he was in the clear.

"You… you didn't offend me," Daelia assured the human ruefully. "I was just being stupid. When I'm stressed, I blank out. It is no one's fault but my own."

On the other end of the connection, Daelia heard Adam sigh.

_Well that's good to know," _Adam replied, sounding genuinely relieved._ "You know, your disappearing act had gotten me all worked up the past few days? I'm glad that I didn't make you feel uncomfortable-"_

"_**Ithinkweshouldshouldgooutsomewhere!"**_ Daelia suddenly blurted out, cutting Adam off from what he was trying to convey to her.

There was a long pause that greeted Dalia's explosion of words. Daelia buried her face into her arm and did her utmost not to verbally scream at herself for what she said. She said that she was going to approach this casually! She said that she was going to retain her composure! She was not a child! She was not going to speak like a child!

There was a small silence then a sudden, incredulous laugh that escaped Adam. Daelia's face burned purple as attempted to rack her brain with an excuse to simply hang up the phone and runaway as far as she could from the Reich… preferably to the Mars colonies.

"_I beg your pardon?" _Adam asked as his laughter vanished, his tone airy.

Swallowing her fear and desires to vanish off the face of the Earth, Daelia took a deep breath and steadied herself. She was not here to fold to her fears. She wanted to meet Adam again. He was the first person who she found interesting in quite some time. She was not about to blow it now.

"I... well, if you're not busy, I think we should… you know… go out on a da... date…. Date thing, _whatever_" Daelia managed to stammer out finally "I'm so sorry about before, I don't do this often… at all, really."

"_Well, since you're dictating the terms, why don't you choose a time and place, and I'll meet you there?"_ Adam spoke again right away. He sounded patient… like a Father. _"It can be sort of a casual get together if you're more comfortable with that then a… well, a date. We can determine more clearly if there is something there and plan something out more formal if you'd like."_

_Get together_. Although Adam could not see it, Daelia found herself nodding. To say she was relieved that he wanted it a casual meeting was an understatement. It took a whole lot of weight off of her shoulders without the word _date _attached to the meeting. It helped her feel a lot more comfortable, that was for sure. Keelah, it felt good to find that Adam was like her... well, sort of like her.

"Well, what about now?" Daelia spoke again. This time, however, her tone was much braver now that she had this new term to use in place of '_date_'. "...like today I mean. Or… would that be too soon for you?"

There was a briefest of pauses. Daelia closed her eyes and silently berated herself yet again for jumping the gun this time. She had perhaps been a little _too_ overconfident now. Foolish of her, absolutely foolish!

"_I was expecting to hear from you a week ago; so sure, today would be great… I need to run a few errands right now however, but how about we meet for lunch?"_ Adam requested, cutting her off from her self-flagellation._ "Contact me when you have a place in mind and I'll be there… unless you need a ride as well, and I'll pick you up. Okay?"_

Daelia opened her eyes back up in surprise. She wasn't exactly an expert on tone, but from her experiences with her sister, it sounded as though Adam Ackerson sounded somewhat excited by the prospects of having an outing with her. It was almost… thrilling. She wasn't exactly a woman who got a lot of attention; and if she had, she more or less did not notice it until now.

"Yes… yes, of course," Daelia managed to not stutter. "I don't need a ride, I mean, but t-thank you. I will call you later. Okay?"

Daelia disconnected the line before Adam had a chance to say goodbye and slumped down onto her couch, her hand covering her face once again. All things considered, that call had gone much better than she had feared it would have gone. She spoke, clarified, even led the conversation at one or two points; and most importantly of all only took her twelve hours to gather her courage and make the call.

Pulling her hand off her forehead, she looked up to the clock on her wall. She had about three hours to figure just where she would meet him for lunch and what to wear. She had to no time to commiserate about the call now; she still had a lot of work left to handle.

**…**

* * *

**…**

Trudging through the muddy dirt road, Generalmajor Jochen von Hoch turned back to look at the gaggle of defence minister's following both he and the leader of this this outing, Generalleutnant Erich-Rüdiger von Manstein.

Placing civilians in charge of national defence was such an embarrassment to behold. With an exception to Sergei Chernov and Svetia Kurylenko -the ministers of defence for the Russian Federation and Ukraine respectively, none of the western European Ministers were dressed to be out on the front line training maneuvers. The only one who was underdressed, but perfectly cheerful was Leon Christpofle, the Breton Minister. Strange lot, the Bretons…

Perhaps the minister's had almost all been under the impression that Manstein would have been holding a Luncheon to talk about troop commitments to the PEAG – Pan European Army Group. PEAG was sort of a euphemism that was more or less made up on the spot by Von Manstein`s Grandfather in the days leading up to his retirement.

The late Erich von Manstein had held a firm conviction that it should not be just German blood shedding in the quarian`s war. He was a firm believer in quid pro quo. If the mainland Europeans and Scandinavians ate the quarian fruit of technology, then there had to be a price to be paid for it. So the quarian leadership took Manstein`s advice.

By the early 1950`s every neighbor of Germany watched in a awe and envy as German cities were cleaned up and rebuilt in record time, crops flourished and increased, production streamlined into a machine that made America look like Japan. By the end of the 1960`s, every European nation but Switzerland and the United Kingdom individually signed treaties and contacts with the quarians for technology access. Then as the technology boosted their nation`s wealth a hundred fold, they quietly downplayed or hid the real price.

But the truth had ways of catching up to the public. On March 17, 1995 then of the Quarian Mandate Lead Minister Wale`Rautara announced that the quarian nation was beginning her mobilization and that all clauses of the quarian mandate`s deals were to be honoured in a timely fashion, or face punitive action. It was just a nice way to say that quarians would descend from orbit and begin a campaign of rapid and unexpected deindustrialization, which would involve beam weaponry and a whole lot of grief.

_Rapid and unexpected deindustrialization… _Christ, Jochen really had to give credit where credit was due; his brother Reinhardt… _John_, whatever he was calling himself, really knew how to coin a viciously sly euphemism. It sort of came with his natural ability to con the greatest minds in the Reich to work for him.

So now that the gloves were officially off for the quarian government and a slow building mobilization of the German-Quarian alliance begun. They could ill afford any further politeness as they showed since 1943. They were on the cusp of returning back to the galaxy that shunned them. They needed all the manpower they could get, and so despite the European-wide protests that have continued to this day –funded in large part by the Americans, the Soviet Union and the Italian and Hungary led Fascist Union of Nations- the pursuit for aggressive cohesion to the Crusade continued.

The group paused as they watched the equivalent of a battalion of geth platforms march by them in perfect unison. Naturally, the sight of the geth made the civilians nervous. To be perfectly honest, it made Jochen uneasy as well when he recalled all the horror stories his Grandparents and Mother taught him, but it was as Manstein had explained earlier, the geth platforms were inert, controlled by human and quarian operators a few kilometres away. They were not the autonomous menace as what waited for them beyond the Veil.

"As you can see we have built geth platforms from the information we gathered. Four divisions worth of these platforms was built with remote operators controlling them," Manstein once again explained to them, the attention of the group turning once again to look at him. "We send out only one division of our own men to simulate the expected response of the geth once the land invasions commence. No matter how many troops we can project into the geth controlled quarian space, all conservative estimate that there will be between 10 and as high as a hundred platforms for every soldier we have."

"This war is essentially a repeat of Barbarossa decades prior, but this time all of our focus is on one singular enemy," Jochen elaborated as the group finally relaxed long enough to turn their backs from the passing geth. "With your help, the war effort will be even more successful once Wehrmacht doctrine is taught to your officers and men. The last time we allowed too many mismatched nations march with us into the Soviet Union in 1941; it nearly spelt doom for all of Europe. While in the end we won, the first three years were plagued with indecision and varying troop capability. Never again can this happen; especially not for a war of this magnitude."

Hoch fell silent as he and Manstein turned to the dozen troop transports, Panzerkampfwagen XIII Kaiser Tiger and the new Jagdhund 170mm self-propelled artillery vehicles. The two Generals snapped to attention and saluted the passing convoy moving to their insertion point. In near unison the troops stood up from their seats and returned the gesture to the group. No command was necessary from their commanders. It was just a spontaneous reaction to the sight of two soldiers from two famous soldiering families.

Behind the two officers standing at attention, a throat cleared interrupting the brief ceremony. Jochen turned around and found that the source of the interruption to be Alain Duceppe, the Defense Minister of the Reunified State of France and more or less the self-appointed leader of this group of contrarian cunts... counties who would take the technology, but fight to backtrack on the deal.

"And what stops your people from investing in an army of those machines to be sent across the ocean of space to fight on your behalf?" Duceppe demanded. He stepped forward to stare at Manstein and Hoch. "Why send good men and women to fight and die for this cause when you have the technology to fill the gaps?"

Neither Manstein, nor Jochen had the chance to answer the remark.

"Because," a familiar voice called out to the gathering. "If the geth knew of what was coming their way, the thing they would want the most was for their creators make the same mistake. It would hand the war over to them before it even so much as begun."

**…**

* * *

**…**

Unbuckling the seatbelt of his Mercedes-Benz G class series SUV, Adam Ackerson climbed out of his vehicle and slammed the door behind him, only pausing for a moment to look into his driver side mirror to make sure his hair was not too disheveled. It might not have been a date, but he certainly wasn't about to come off as shabby.

He had a whole list of things he had to do today: Take Amala to her Ballet lessons, Grocery shop, help organize a birthday party for Charlotte Sterner –one of Amala's friends, whom he owed a favour to her mother, Karin (an incessant flirt, who was clearly a bored housewife) and then take Amala to her afternoon held Kindergarten. It was all just another day in the life of a parent. At least it had been when he got a peculiar phone call from Daelia'Vael.

It did not take a genius to figure out that Daelia had HOCCD. Having spent the better part of three years in relatively close proximity with Galina, he was well aware of the signs and, by the time Daelia had called, he was more or less proven right. That or she had a severe social anxiety which kept her in a perpetual fear of others.

Whatever it was, Adam was not about to draw attention to it. He might have been rusty at dating, but the last time he checked, asking another person about why she was jumpy, distant and a terrible conversationalist during their first encounter. He would pay the quirks no attention for the time being and if today was a successful date, he would wait until she was comfortable with broaching the subject.

Just as he would have to be comfortable with admitting that he was a 28 year old widower single father. He nearly had a heart attack when Amala tried to answer the call. He had to shoo her back into her room and take the call outside.

For now, deception sort of was a necessity. At this point all Adam could do was bury his head in the sand and try to pretend that he was single like her; at least until there was no more room or time to admit it. Christ… not even on the first date in five years and he was already feeling like a shitty father that he would pretend that Amala simply did not exist.

His attempt at keeping Amala out of the picture for now was not malicious or callous –at least that was what he thought-, but it was a selfish act. It was his first truly selfish act he had committed since he found out he was going to be a single father, really. It was as Hanala said. He just did not want to be defined by his child. Amala was an important factor… no, the single most important factor to whether he could be in a relationship again; but for now, just for now, he wanted a chance to have a little fun… even if the subject of his fascination was a little…. peculiar.

Fixing both his dress jacket and t-shirt nervously, Adam dropped his hands as soon as he noticed the figure of a quarian woman standing in front of the coffee shop; her back was turned to him. She looked as though she was a ghost. Her dark hair was pulled back tightly in a ponytail. Her head was lowered as she appeared to have been staring at her feet.

"_Daelia?"_ Adam decided to call out before he actually joined her.

The woman turned around at almost a neck snapping speed. Her eyes were wide as she met his. Sure enough it was Daelia'Vael. She looked… different then the last time they met. It was a good sort of different, to be honest. She was wearing a simple white and black V-neck shirt and slacks. It was a far cry from the extravagant dress she wore during their first encounter. Gone were her heels, placing the woman at just over five and a half feet tall to his six.

He watched as she very slowly relaxed from her paranoid state and reluctantly offered him a faint –but still nervous- smile. Adam could not help but notice that it did not quite meet her eyes. She was apparently very much still on edge; very much living in some sort of fear that she was on the verge of fouling up. She looked very much close to bolting on him.

Taking pity on her, Adam stepped forward slowly. He too held his light grin on his face for her as he finished closing the gap between them. He stopped as soon as she took a step back.

"I would have arrived sooner if I knew that you were early," he apologized to her immediately.

Daelia tilted her head. Her hands fidgeted as though she was extraordinarily nervous to be caught up in this sort of encounter. Too be fair to her, so was he if he was being honest with himself. Yet again he found himself apologizing to her even if it was not necessary. It was his little tick, really.

"It's… fine," Daelia reassured him, her voice coming off as a little anxious. "I like to be a little early to... well I guess to scope things out…"

Adam's grin widened.

"Are you the secret police?" he dryly asked her. "Or are you a BND agent?"

It was quite possibly the single stupidest thing that Adam could have possibly ever said. He watched as the poor woman hopped in place, her eyes grew large as she gasped at the suggestion that she was somehow tied to the Intelligence services because she was punctual and spoke like a spy.

It was Adams turn to blanch, and then went a shade of red. _Dad humour_... He was using actual dad humour on a woman. What the hell was wrong with him!? The concept of him stooping to that low was mortifying to say the least. He had to dial it back, play it cool, like the days before he was a Father… before he was a husband, even.

Settling his embarrassment, Adam looked up and emitted a nervous laugh as he looked at Daelia properly. She did not seem to notice the sort of slip up he had made. Thank God that had seemed to have been the case...

"I'm… well… I was teasing you, I'm sorry," Adam apologized immediately, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm going to confess that I haven't exactly had much time to be in the presence of new people over the past few years. I might be a little rusty at it."

Daelia looked back up. Once again her head tilted peculiarly as she appeared to have been inspecting him. In a sudden and small series of jerks, Daelia nodded her head, accepting his explanation as well as his apology.

"That's… that's fine. I'm… well, I'm not particularly adept to reading the cues of others…" Daelia admitted as she lowered his eyes from his. "I mean… I would like to, I just… foul up. I knew you were jesting, but the impulse to protect my name is… strong, to say the least."

"Alright then, I'll take that into account," Adam replied, happy that it was smoothed over so easily. "Should we sit? Or would you rather want to go inside?"

Adam fell silent as Daelia glanced at the patio which he had been gesturing to. It was a warm day, and it seemed as though she longed to try it. But he watched her twitch and she shook her head as though the concept was far too daring. Daelia's hands reached up to stroke her tied back hair and she quietly walked through the open doors of the coffee shop, Adam in lockstep next to her.

As they ordered their drinks and bakery goods, Daelia found the two of them a quiet little corner booth for the two of them to sit with little to no interaction with the other patrons. As she noticed Adam standing next to her, she emitted a weak smile and sat down. Adam did the same, sitting just across from her.

They remained silent for the most part, making small talk on occasion. Mostly it was a very comfortable silence between the two of them. It more or less remained that way until the young looking quarian waitress placed the tray filled with items for both quarian and human consumption that the conversation started to pick up. He asked about the riots that unfolded the night they first met. She seemed to have been unscathed by them, although her neighbourhood was attacked. It was sort of a given being that she was quarian living in a quarian neighbourhood. The way the far leftist youth scapegoated the quarians as their great oppressors. It was a foolish concept… unbelievably foolish.

As Daelia stirred sweetener into her tea, she glanced back up to Adam. She appeared somewhat troubled.

"How did my sister get your contact information?" she asked as she set down the spoon. "Did you contact her directly? I… I asked and she said she wouldn't say…"

Adam shook his head as he set his own tea down.

"No, and frankly you didn't give me a lot to search into," he returned, lightly teasing her. "I asked… John… _John_…I'm going to kill him. He said he would keep his nose out of it."

Daelia's brow arched as the sudden annoyance tinged his words. John Hoch… of course he would go back on his promise and directly interfere with his affairs, as though they were his business! This was so goddamn typical of him! Why did he trust him to do the right thing!

Adam took a deep breath. The last thing he wanted to do was to stir up drama right now.

"My employer… John Hoch," he carefully explained, his tone remaining as neutral as he could keep it. "He likes to take a personal interest in the sort of things that aren't of his concern. I asked for his help to find you, but I figured he wouldn't get involved too deeply. It seems that he paid your sister a personal visit about us..."

Daelia could only blink. It took exactly three seconds for Adam to groan and rub his forehead.

"Your boss is John Hoch?" Daelia spoke blankly. "You're telling me that John Hoch paid my sister a visit about _me_?"

She did not stutter or strain her voice. It was an empty response. One rooted in an overriding shock to her system. Adam, who more or less lived and breathed in the shadow of John Hoch had to remind himself that having a Billionaire Industrialist calling on your sibling about dates wasn't exactly an everyday thing for most… well… everyone, really.

But that was so right up John's alley – shocking people in new, exciting ways as a kick. Having a man who lived and breathed for science discussing the love life of one of his employees was just another source of amusement. If this… thing… between Daelia and himself were to become something more substantial than a coffee date, then she would soon have to get used to being under the microscope that John Hoch's attention was.

"Yes… Yes Hoch did. And, well, technically I suppose he is my boss… technically…" Adam finally spoke, deciding to puff himself up… just a little. "He pays me, but I don't exactly answer to him. I'm sort of a contractor and he's my client. I'm his parent's personal physician, you see."

"You're a private care physician to Joachim and Hanala Hoch?" Daelia repeated incredulously, clearly a role that she had found greatly interesting. "That… ahhh… that sounds _fascinating_. The… the things they saw, the stories they must be able to tell…"

Adam nodded. Yes, the stories those two could tell. For the most part they were horror stories. The sort of things Adam didn't think he had the stomach to listen to, even if he did do his stint in the Wehrmacht himself. The Germanic Civil War and the Quarian Intervention were sordid affairs. Even destroying the Nazis did not make men like Joachim Hoch's hands clean for their complicity. That moral scrubbing was still happening five… nearly six decades later.

"Yeah, I figured that would be the case, but they are intensely private about their pre-retirement life," Adam returned, his voice lowering an octave. "Lots of ghosts and skeletons in the closet I suppose... lots of death and loss. How they got out of the things they were involved with is a miracle…"

Adam trailed off and berated his tactlessness. He exhaled grimly and sipped his tea. He watched as Daelia took his cue and imitated his movements. Her bright eyes flickered up to look at him for a moment before they casted back down. Silently he put down Joachim and Hanala Hoch as topics not to broach on encounters with people. The subject matter was not good spirited.

"Sorry," he apologized without warning. "I got a little dark there. I did not mean to."

Swallowing a mouthful of her dextro-compatible _plundergebäck_, Daelia wiped her mouth with her napkin and met his eyes again. This time she did not look away.

"You… don't have to apologize so often," Daelia assured him.

Adam could not help but chuckle and shake his head. It certainly did not take Daelia long to notice one of his more annoying traits he held onto: the incessant desire to keep everyone help regardless of whether he was to blame for the trouble or not. He was a German citizen for over a decade now and he still was struggling to learn the art of curtness.

"I'm sorry…" Adam blurted out, his hand smacking his face in mock frustration. "See? It's sort of kneejerk reaction to apologize, even when it is beyond my control. No matter how much I integrate into German society. Germans are curt and don't mince words, my need to placate is hardwired into my Canadian roots. I fear I'll never fit in!"

For the first time since they met, Daelia allowed a small nervous laugh escape her. She sounded almost at ease as Adam joined in her in the laughter. Slowly she sighed, still smiling. She lowered her eyes to her tea and took a sip. Adam leaned backwards into his seat and enjoyed the silence, his hands picking apart his muffin as he held his eyes on the shy younger woman.

It was a strange feeling to find, especially so suddenly; but for the first time in a long, long time, Adam felt… comfortable. Like he was somewhere he belonged. He was not an imposition or someone else's amusement. For the first time in a long while, he was in the presence of someone who was equally as unsure and ill placed as he was. It seemed that both Daelia and he were outcasts in the German machine. Both doing their best to fit in, but never quite able to acclimatize to the societies they tried to fit into…

Chewing his muffin, Adam decided to enjoy the silence as Daelia seemed to do.

**…**

* * *

**…**

Finally… a politician was here who could speak on the matter… One who wasn't a complete incompetent like the most of the others gathered before the two young Generals.

Jochen inwardly relaxed as he watched the newly elected First Minister of the Quarian Mandate Gan'Yulaani approached the gathering. His expression was receptive to the politicians. He brushed by Manstein and Hoch and stepped between them and Duceppe. His hand held out to the disgruntled Frenchman. Alain looked at the hand for a moment and took it.

"All records and recent information gathering has time and time again shown that the geth can hijack all forms of long range and advanced signals broadcasts," Yulaani pressed onwards as he let go of his hand. "The last thing we want to do is add to their numbers, or give away the element of surprise. As good as our scientists are at designing signals, the geth will naturally attempt to break it."

Smiling for a moment, Gan'Yulaani turned his attention to Manstein and offered his hand to him next. When he turned to Hoch, there was no professional handshake like the others. Instead the First Minister reached out and shook the young general by his shoulders as though he were still a boy. The playful reaction was enough to make Manstein snort derisively next to him and the politicians to look confused by the First Minister's affection to the junior general in the group.

It was one of the more annoying traits of Yulaani; a quarian who grew up as schoolboy chums with Reinhardt and… well, Gerald as well. When the eldest boys hit 13 and 12, Mother and Father moved south and sent the eldest children to school in the mandate. For Gerald and Haeva, it was to explore their quarian heritage, for Reinhardt and Erika it was to better understand where the other half of his family came from. Reinhardt learned Khelish without the assistance of a translator in a matter of months. He and Erika quickly became a source of great entertainment and novelty for the quarian children he went to school with.

It wasn't long before the naturally ambitious Reinhardt and the always loyal Gerald had a pack of quarian teenagers eating out of the palm of his hand. Gan'Yulaani was Reinhardt's best friend during school, until Gerald decided to be the first one to follow in Father's footsteps and joined the Heer before the draft letter was even mailed.

Reinhardt more or less despised the concept of military service to the Reich and Kaiser. It was a belief that Father was actually rather proud of –Having a son who did not want military life. His intentions were that he would stay in the Mandate where he would study in one of their universities with another human who had come to the Mandate in her senior year –Alexandria McKellan. But Reinhardt being Reinhardt, he postponed his education and instead followed his Brother's lead, joining the Heer as well.

Despite Reinhardt leaving the Mandate, Reinhardt and Gan stayed in touch until the Soviets crossed over… well… tunnelled under the DMZ and destroyed the garrisons guarding the 2000 kilometre frontier between the Russian Federation and the Soviet Union and touched off the Third Germanic-Soviet War. Gerald was included amongst the dead.

After Gerald's death, Reinhardt disappeared for 8 years. It was no state secret where and who Reinhardt signed up with. He ran off to join Otto Skorzeny and Ernst Kaltenbrunner's Paladin Group. The truth remained obscured from the public. The official story was that Reinhardt was sent on assignment by Father and the Wehrmacht Council to break up the organization, which was causing all sorts of chaos around the world. The truth was that there was no assignment. Devastated by the death of Gerald, Reinhardt went AWOL from the hospital and crossed over the Vichy French/Spanish border and went looking for Paladin Group.

When Paladin Group was destroyed in 1978, Reinhardt, now John Hoch came home and begun setting up his company funded on blood money. Gan was one of the first people he contacted. Gan was a struggling Candidate, trying to win a seat on the Conclave in an election year. Within days of their reunion, Reinhardt produced his dual citizenship papers, became a registered donor and Gan'Yulaani found his election campaign bankrolled.

But money in politics was not surprising part. What stood out was there were no strings attached to the money. Gan's record spoke for itself; at no point had there been anything that showed collaboration between the two parties. It was just like the old days. Reinhardt saw his friend in need and he helped. It was rather… noble. It was a real step in the right direction. It allowed Gan to be a crusader without special interests groups keeping him from doing what was right. Conclave member moved up to Minister of Foreign Affairs and Minister of Foreign Affairs put him on the path to First Minister.

At 45, Yulaani was the youngest leader of the quarian people since the disestablishment of the Admiralty Board. It would be he who represented the return of the quarian people to Citadel Space. It would be a monumental moment to rub the return of the proud Quarian race in the face of the aliens who allowed their near extinction. Well, either that or lead the people to their doom in the event of a failure of the campaign...

"I apologize for my lateness, Generals, Ministers," Yulaani greeted everyone as he turned from Hoch. "I am afraid I got caught up in last minute meetings with the conclave."

"Thank you for the clarification on the matter, Minister Yulaani," Von Manstein was the first to speak. "This danger of geth infiltration into our network not only makes organic military presence necessary, but _Ausftragtakik_ –or mission-type tactics a vital necessity to the doctrine of the Wehrmacht. The commanders on the ground are given a general order by their superior officer. How they set about it is at the prerogative of the officers and men in the action."

A lone, dark chuckle broke out amongst the group.

"A tactic that made the actions of the Wehrmacht in the nations they invaded permissible, no matter how horrifying they were," the Danish defence minister spoke a mutter. "It helped the Generals sleep better at night, right?"

As the non-Germanic ministers laughed at the shot, Jochen twisted around to defend his predecessors from the Dane's insults. He was stopped however by Manstein who gave him a warning look and a clasp on his shoulder. Manstein warning was clear. Now was not the time to cause an international incident The Pan European alliance that was the European Union had to become a military alliance as well as an economic one. Even if the Danes were lucky to provide perhaps a division, they still needed all the boots on the ground that they could muster for the inevitable battles to smash the geth networks across the Perseus Veil…

If their loyalty had a price tag that included insults, then Jochen supposed he had to keep his temper in check. He would not forget it however. If they agreed to the terms, it would be Danish boots that hit the ground fire first if he was placed in charge of them. It was high time for the Scandinavians to relearn what sacrifice truly meant. It was an education which only the Finns understood these days.

The thundering of artillery about a three kilometres from their location made all the ministers end their conversation and turn away to look in the direction of the shells being dropped. Yulaani clapped his hands together and gestured to the Hanomag that had come to a halt in front of them.

"And so the operation is commencing," Minister Yulaani spoke happily. "Please make your way to the observation line. The Generals will be with you shortly."

Minister Yulaani, Manstein and Hoch remained still and watched as the soldiers helped the ministers climb into the back of the Hanomag. It took all of Hoch's efforts not to explode until the hatch closed and the vehicle started moving.

"Western Europeans, Scandinavians… insufferable liberal _bastards_ the whole lot of them!" Jochen suddenly exploded as soon as the Hanomag was out their sight. He rounded back to Minister Yulaani and added. "Give us your toys but don't expect us to honour our agreements! They should have been sensible and listened to United Kingdom instead. It would have saved us the agonizing headache."

The rage was enough to make Erich-Rüdiger explode in wild laughter. He slapped his knee and twisted around in place. Gan'Yulaani was smiling as well, but instead of laughing, he reached over and slapped Jochen on the shoulder once again. Jochen groaned. He could not find the humor in the shady attitude of the European leadership.

"Jochen, my boy you are taking this far _too_ personally!" Gan retorted brightly. "Politicians have to play their games, but politicians in charge of national defense affairs are by far the most sympathetic of the lot. It will be up to them to sell this war to the public. It is their legacies at stake; the blood that is shed for quarian interests is on them."

As Jochen grumbled under his breath about the merits of just what the First Minister was telling him, he could not help but still feel frustrated by the situation. Yes, it was only nature that the ministers were leery about sending their troops to combat a threat millions of light years away. Still he was a firm believer in keeping promises.

"This alliance is a shaky one, even without the threat your predecessor had issued to them," Manstein sighed as he pulled off his cap to wipe the condensation forming on his forehead. "I would not doubt they would wane and break the moment that the first casualty reports flood in. Let's face it; German dominance over Europe has led to complacency. There is no threat that they need to deal with. They are the Remora to the shark."

The First Minister tightened his coat.

"I know, but do not worry; I have an answer to that one," Gan reassured both Generals. "You see I was not in a meeting with the conclave, but with the Kaiser and the Wehrmacht council… Your father included, Erich."

Both Generals turned their eyes up to the first minister. The involvement of the Kaiser, the Wehrmacht Council and Chief of Staff of the Wehrmacht Generalfeldmarschall Rüdiger von Manstein meant only one thing…

"As we speak, a war is brewing… a quick engagement that should serve to shake the rest of Europe out of its lethargic state," Gan informed the two young generals. "Inside a few months, we will begin the process of dismantling the Fascist Union of Nations and at simultaneous time, the Soviet Union. It is time to bring Southeastern Europe into our hands and Russia back in control of her Eastern Territories. "

It took all of Jochen's effort not to demand an answer why High Command thought it was wise to declare a two front war? Sure, the Fascist Union was fractured and had no allies in America or the UK and would be rolled over in a matter of weeks, months if they go the hard way and ask permission of the United States to invade Argentina, Chile, Cuba, half of Central America… They were weak regimes, soft powers that the United States more or less worked with the Fascist Union of Nations to keep under control.

The Union and their paramilitary group Paladin kept Central and South America from collapsing to Communism following the grand exodus of Russian communists after the collapse of the First Soviet Union and withdrawal in 1948. Those who were captured by the Germans and quarians and could no longer get into the reformed Soviet Union fled around the world to start communist causes and uprisings around the world. Africa was undeniable. The quarians had begun a process of decolonization and went about educating the Africa Union about responsible, transparent governments. South East Asia and the Americas were made all the more attractive.

While the United States, Germany and China set about the arduous task of cleaning Asia in order to keep the young Chinese Republic safe, South America was ripe for the taking once the Fascist landed In Argentina and declared the country a new parent following their disposal of Juan Perón once he proved too unreliable. That whole goddamn country became one giant Paladin Group playground. Jesus, the stories his brother told about it…

Jochen sighed. This was something that should have been dealt with before he was born. This was why no one could leave issues unanswered. It was one of the tenets that Jochen passed onto his children. From now on the next generation of Von Hoch's would not commit half measures like his Father had.

"First Minister, are you telling us that the only way to stop civil unrest and the grumbling of our neighbours is to throw Europe back into another _war_?" Manstein quipped, "It is now little wonder why the rest of the world looks at German-Quarian union like we're insane."

"_A two front war…" _Jochen amended for his Prussian friend, his face contorted into an expression of disbelief as he too pulled off his cap. "I thought we had learned from the last two damn times that happened! A war against the communists could take decades! The Soviet Union is a hermit state which spends 30 percent of its GDP on defence! All intelligence reports indicate 90 percent of their one hundred and fifty plus million population are military trained. This… this is _madness_, Minister…"

Yulaani's mouth formed into a smile.

"Under normal circumstances, that would be something to fret over. But that phase war is getting full fleet treatment," Yulaani replied with an audacious shrug. "It was determined by Grand Admiral Malu'Valao that it was time for training the both the Defense Force Fleet and the Raumstreitflotte in the art of planetary bombardment… Just one good kick and I guarantee it all comes crumbling down."

Leaving Von Hoch speechless, Yulaani put his hands into his pocket and followed the route. Manstein glanced to his friend and colleague and offered him an amused chuckle and quickly followed behind the First Minister, leaving the still agitated Jochen behind, shaking his head and kicking his boot in the mud.

"_Yeah…" _Jochen muttered as he followed behind the two._"That worked out well for the last guy who said that."_

**…**

* * *

**…**

_Two hours._ Daelia had somehow sustained a two hour outing with a person outside of her family and outside of her work life as well.

It was a huge personal achievement on her part, and while she wasn't exactly an element in the conversational portion of the interaction, she DID manage to keep up with everything Adam Ackerson had to say. Learning the little bits and pieces about him was fascinating. Not only was he a Physician but he was one to the Hoch family, he was a foreigner like her, he was polite, perhaps overly so, but she did not mind that either!

Perhaps Nytalia was onto something about making an effort to pay attention. She had learned so much in the past little while that time flew by and most importantly of all, she actually felt comfortable… even at ease! They had their awkward moments at the beginning, but overall everything went well in the end. As they paid up their bill, the two of them walked out of the café side by side. This Daelia felt much lighter then she had two hours ago. She felt as though she was not interacting with a complete stranger now. That by itself was a real weight off her shoulders in itself.

Next time… if there was a next, she would make a conscious effort to contribute. She was a firm believer in fairness, and now this was the second time in which Adam had to keep the ball rolling between them…

"Would you like a ride home?" she heard him ask. Daelia glanced away from her feet and looked to Adam, who was gesturing to the Sports Utility Vehicle he apparently drove.

Daelia smiled privately. It was a tempting offer, but she just could not take it not yet at least. She did not want to be too much of a hassle already. She would take a Taxi back home; where undoubtedly Nytalia was waiting, or on standby via the communicator.

"I… no… no, thank you, Adam… I appreciate the offer." she stammered out with a faint smile for him.

As they paused on the sidewalk, Daelia threw her hand up in the air to start to wave a Taxi down. She paused and silently berated herself. She was about to do it yet again: leave without as much as a goodbye to him or even a plan for a continuation of all of this. Already she was acting like a damn fool yet again. At least this time she had his contact information. It wouldn't have been so bad, but still, she really needed to stop fleeing the moment she had a chance to…

"Am I really this repulsive?" she heard Adam remark.

The words snapped through Daelia and nearly made her round back to furiously defend herself from his observation. She paused, however, recognized the tone. The humorous jabbing that Adam possessed which pushed her buttons in a good way…

"No… no, you're not… You have been extraordinary patient with me, Adam," Daelia admitted as she turned back to face him. "I did… enjoy this… quite a bit more than I thought I would have, if I'm being honest."

Adam bared his teeth in a wide grin.

"Well so did I." he confessed.

As air caught in her throat, all she could do was make a rather strange choking sound for a moment. Her hand smacked her forehead. She jumped slightly as Adam reached out and took her by the wrist. Carefully he pulled the hand back off her face and placed it back against her side. Embarrassed, Daelia exhaled and titled her head to one side.

"I'm… free this weekend," she blurted out. Daelia took a breath and added. "I was hoping… I was hoping that you liked this enough to… well… _continue_ this into an actual… you know… date."

She watched as Adam placed his hands into his pocket as he regarded her carefully. Silent, Adam nodded his head.

"Well, I would like that…" he confessed to her. "But a fair warning to you," he amended. "On an actual date, I'm going to be asking you questions. Your silence has been acceptable for now, but I feel that the conversation is very one sided. I would like to get to know you, Daelia'Vael."

Feeling rather nervous as her position was more or less stated word for word by Adam, Daelia inclined her head to one side.

"I know… I mean, I understand," Daelia agreed. "Thank you again for your patience... and call me, please…. When you have the chance…"

As Adam nodded, Daelia reached out, and in a moment of daring, touched his forearm. Adam glanced at it, but thankfully did not react. She really wasn't sure what she could have done if he escalated the physical contact beyond what she managed to do. As she let go, she stepped back and waved her hand back into the air for the taxi.

Yes… today, it seemed, had been a very good day.

**…**

* * *

**…**

**Sorry for the delay. I got sick for the past two weeks and barely touched the chapter. I'm still a little out of it, so if there are more errors then usual, you have my excuses. Then when I begun to recover I got myself engrossed into Downton Abbey of all things. Now I've got stupid plotlines about Joachim Hoch terrorizing a British Aristocratic home while he's in England collecting POWs stuck in my head -He and his gang of uncultured krauts taking over their home while he conducts his business.**

**I always said I was going to do a 1943-44 Joachim Hoch in England one shot… perhaps that'll be the route.**

**May have noticed that there isn't a whole lot of Amala Ackerson written into the story yet… I feel that the character is too young at the moment to be interesting. However this era spans from 1998 to 2015. There will be large time gaps in this series and Amala will grow up and that is when things get cool for her.**

**No previews this time. All I can say is more demented romance and more learning. A codex would be so much easier, but a Codex just feels lazy to me. I like giving in-verse exploration. Perhaps if it gets too confusing I will categorize everything into a single go-to place.**

**Thanks for reading. Back to Downton Abbey for me!  
**


	6. The Outing

**That took too long.**

**…**

* * *

**…**

**Chapter Six: The Outing**

**…**

It seemed as if Daelia had been true to her word... perhaps a little too true. She made a conscious effort not to allow a silence between the two of them last more than half a minute at a time. It did not matter how inane the topic in question was. She brought it up with all the fervor of a dedicated.

Adam didn't exactly mind, it meant that he was not leading her around the date by her nose which it seemed he had been doing the last two encounters they had. He did not want to be a domineering force over her. He didn't want to be the only one who voiced for the two of them. As much as he enjoyed the comfortable silence they could have, she had to be willing to be unafraid of voicing herself around him.

And frankly, he did not want to become Alexandria McKellan with her.

Now that he had about four years to mourn her, he could allow himself to take the rose tinted glasses off when it came to her. While Alexandria had been a good, honest woman, Jesus Christ could she ever radiate the sense of entitlement that only came when you were one of John Hoch's favourites for as long as she was. Her time spent as friend and colleague to John Hoch was enough to inspire the same sort of attitude in her that Adam had found so appealing in the first place. She was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and was not afraid to seek it out.

She was also quite wealthy -more so then Adam ever thought her to be. In the years after her demise he presumed the accumulated wealth was due to her early investment of time into Daedalus Industries. She was a woman who lived well under her means and, at the time of her death, liquidated her assets and signed them over to Adam without warning. Her estate was worth in the low eight figures. Of which Adam promptly split up, giving half to her parents, the other half was sitting in a bank account collecting interest. He decided that when Amala turned 18, he would give her the rest of the estate. It would be sort of Alexandria's apology for not being there, even when she was alive.

Adam exhaled and washed away his resentment to his estranged and deceased wife. It was an unwarranted and unnecessary hatred, but one that remained rather strong in him. The fact that she thought it was better to cut and run within two months of giving birth rather than let Adam take care of her as he swore to her that she would as the marriage vow stated bothered him terribly. Had she thought him too weak to handle reality? She could have lived for many years longer than she had, had she not so foolishly taken up the pursuit to cure a neuron disease.

But all of this… it was all in the past. Daelia was a completely different woman and she was such a refreshing sight to stumble across. She seemed much more… human, funnily enough then Alexandria ever did. She was just so much more down to earth and Adam could not have been more thrilled to encounter that in a Reich where everyone was looking to advance beyond their current level. She just seemed… content. Strangely yet it was the first time in John's life that he found a quarian appealing enough to see. Sure, the quarians he knew before Daelia were nice enough, but he never had the physical desire to date outside his species until now. He had seen the challenges of interspecies relationships, including the brutal disintegration of Erika Hoch's marriage to Halar'Lautari.

Of course… all of his enthusiasm could evaporate in a matter of seconds. In the end it would all have to hinge on her accepting that he had baggage in the form of a child. Even the slightest hint of rejection and Adam would cut the relationship off. One of those things one does for their children, he supposed.

A low hum caught his attention. Sure enough it was Daelia. It appeared as though the silence between them had gone on long enough. It was, after all, her job to lead the conversation.

"So… why did you leave North America for the Reich?" Daelia spoke up, setting her knife and fork on each side of her dinner plate. "Life there seems to be much simpler there… much more primitive in comparison, but easier…"

Adam nodded.

"It is, well it was," he confirmed with a slight smile. "I guess in my teenage years I got interested with family history. My family came from across Canada and the United States, but they all shared a common German heritage. I became obsessed with the idea of applying pan-germanism in North America – the idea of a population exodus back to the Greater German Reich, or aid in the Germanisation of the former Polish 'State'. By the time I got there I realized the Polish nationality had been swallowed into the Reich. Ost Germanisation was an old Nazi Party ideal that the Kaiser did not subscribe to. So I adapted."

Daelia did not seem bothered by Adam's teenage resentment for the Slavic culture inside the borders of the Reich. It was hardly an uncommon thing to find in someone inside Germany; just as in America how north hated the south, Irish hated the United Kingdom and Canada hated Quebec, and the Mandate hated the quarians who choice to abandon the fleet and live in Citadel Space, so too did the Germans resent the Polish province. It was a local minority that sought to undermine the Reich no matter how much leeway the Kaiser would give them.

"Were you alone in this decision?" Daelia spoke again. She watched as Adam nodded his head.

"In my family, yes; many thousands of ethnic Germans in North America have returned back to the Reich before me, so my departure is not exactly common, but not original in any sense," Adam spoke slowly as he leaned into his seat. "Despite the awkwardness I still have with the local Germans; I do not regret it in the slightest. In all honesty, I feel more comfortable here than I ever did across the Atlantic… I wasn't exactly… _attached_ to my family back home."

Silently Daelia sipped her wine. Her mouth formed into a slight frown as she set her glass back down

"And your family?" she tacked on. "They did not mind that you have essentially thrown out everything you were taught and adopted militarism instead?"

I didn't adopt militarism, otherwise I would still be a soldier," Adam chuckled slightly. "I came to the Reich to help. I used a gun and followed orders when I was drafted and I swore to God that I wouldn't put myself in that position ever again… which is why I chose my career. I'm now too essential to be reenlisted in as a regular soldier now. Besides… armed service, well it scares me…"

Daelia tilted her head to one side.

"You're scared of the Heer?"

Adam nodded.

"I'm not scared of dying -although that is worrisome. I'm scared by what I saw in training," he admitted to her. He paused for a moment and then added. "Have you ever seen that old Disney anti-Nazi propaganda video '_Education for Death'_?"

Daelia stared at as though he was sprouting off gibberish aloud. Adam decided against quoting the climax of the animated short and instead emitted a small, nervous laugh.

"There's a reason why the median age of the rioters are 16-17. Once you go through training… you change for the most part. It's a sort of like… indoctrination. Like… Like if the surviving SS men were co-opted to teach the Wehrmacht instructors about how to train ideological soldiers," he explained instead. "The drafted understand the necessity of the war, but becoming a lifer takes a special sort of dedication. There's a fanatical hatred for creatures none of them ever saw before."

Daelia blinked. Her expression hardened.

"The geth are genocidal machine creation that suffered a massive glitch," she almost chastised him. "Creatures imply they are alive."

So, despite her oddities, there appeared on thing which Daelia was firmly with the majority of her fellow quarians. Adam dared not make a comment or so much as crack a smile at the rare display of serious anger in her voice. Trivializing the quarian genocide even slightly was enough to drive the most level quarian into a foaming rage. He knew that from experience when he was just fresh off the boat.

"I agree, but I'm not talking about the geth," Adam spoke softly as he set his fork down. "I'm talking about the rest of the races. The ones who slighted your people are the subject of intense focus in Wehrmacht combat exercises. A good portion of our training was the anatomy of the turian and how to kill them. _'Preparation in case the turians declared war' _they said."

Every word of what he said was the dead honest truth. It was little wonder why so many people believed that once the geth were dealt with, the ire of the quarians would turn to those who betrayed them. Most people sort of assumed it would happen because it was organic nature to seek revenge on those that wronged them as they had been wronged. Preparing for a hypothetical war only served to agitate the problem and provide fuel to the fire in the anti-war argument.

In all honesty Adam genuinely believed that there would be no war against the galactic-wide turian hierarchy, and that perhaps the training he received was simply a preparation for the worst case scenario. Just as all North American school children in the 50's and 60's were taught to 'duck and cover' in case of quarian orbital bombardment. Better to know something, rather than stumble into war blind. If anything the briefings regarding what was known about the hierarchy would inspire a healthy respect and fear in the Reich's future leadership. It would make war less likely the ultimate outcome once the quarians brought them back to the Citadel controlled galaxy.

"Anyways…" Adam broke the short silence. "When reenlistment came up, I told my Commandant that I wanted to take up the Wehrmacht Advanced Education offer and I was in medical school in a matter of weeks... and I haven't looked back at the Heer since."

Raising his glass of wine to his lips, he held his eyes on Daelia. She had nothing to say, so instead turned her attention to her food once again now that the silence permeated between them. He did not mind the silence. It gave Adam time to admire her aesthetics; it became very clear to him that their first encounter, she was more or less a play doll for her sister to dress up. Tonight she was much more conservative and it really played well to both her demeanor and her sharp facial angles.

"What about you?" Adam spoke up, shifting the conversation back to her. "You have a rather strong Khelish accent in your German. I'm going to presume you and I share immigrant status. What motivated you to leave an advanced society to a much more primitive one… in comparison..."

Daelia did not seem to recognize that he was echoing her own words back to her. If she had, then she certainly did not acknowledge it. She set down her red wine and carefully wiped her lips. Her eyes remained directed to the table until she seemed to realize that Adam wasn't about to resent, nor give her chance to evade the query as he may have had it been like the past few encounters they had.

Slowly, reluctantly, Daelia looked up. Her eyes filled a strange display of foreboding.

"The Reich is safer," was all Daelia had to reply with.

There was no elaboration on her statement. Daelia turned her attention back to her salad and picked through it, leaving Adam rather confused.

The Reich was safe, sure, but it certainly wasn't perfect in the way of the reverence and enthusiasm Daelia spoke. It was certainly not the case since the mobilization had begun. As far as Adam could tell, it was especially dangerous to be a quarian living in the Reich right now. It was not exactly uncommon that the young, radical left assumed all quarians as spokespeople and proponents for the actions of the government. As such it made them targets of their discontentment.

"The Reich is safer?" he repeated, unable to quite believe her opinion. "I was under the impression that the Mandate had some of the strictest borders and internal security in the world thanks to the thirty years of North African insurgency, funded by the Fascists..."

Daelia swirled her drink. She remained unable to meet him in the eye.

"The… the Reich is so much safer…" was her repeated response.

Holding his eyes on her for only a few seconds longer, Adam nodded, deciding to accept the answer as it was. She seemed to have been getting uncomfortable now, and that was not something he wanted to do. Perhaps his time with the Hoch family had convinced him that he should hold everyone's feet to the fire. Well that really had to stop.

"So what exactly do you do for a living?" he decided to inquire instead. "We talked about me, what about you? What keeps you occupied?"

Daelia glanced up and carefully inspected him; like she was trying to figure out if she was about to be a target of ridicule. Adam retained the smile he learned in medical school –one that told Daelia that there was absolutely nothing to fear from telling him the truth. Granted it was designed for children who got themselves in trouble, but in this case he found himself using it for a grown adult…

"I'm in early childhood education," she confessed, her voice low and almost ashamed, even.

Adam widened his eyes at the most unexpected response from her. Jesus, he expected something a little more… _isolated_… like an accountant or something. Something out of the way…

"You're a teacher?" Adam replied, perhaps a little too enthused. "What grades are you certified for?"

His curiosity was not something Daelia seemed to welcome. She tightened up hard and stared at his chest rather than as she had been into his eyes as she seemed perfectly fine doing moments prior.

"I've trained to educate between years one to four, however I tend to stick to year one," she spoke, her tone raised much higher then before. "I… enjoy it… I know it's not much compared to what _you_ do… or who _you_ work with…"

Adam tilted his head at the reaction he had garnered from his innocuous remark. It appeared somewhere Daelia misconstrued his genuine curiosity as some sort of slight against her –which simply wasn't the case. It further cemented Adam's hypothesis that her personality stemmed from something far deeper than a simple anxiety…

Deciding not to allow the misinterpretation to stand, Adam leaned forward and forced Daelia to lock eyes back onto his. He then allowed a careful smile to be presented for her to take in.

"You seem to misunderstand my tone or perhaps my intent, Daelia," he gently pointed out to her. "I'm not scoffing your career; in fact I think it's marvellous. I also think you have overinflated what I do a bit. Sort of like a _'grass is always greener'_ thing."

He watched as Daelia blinked. Her defensive posturing vanished and replacing it was a look of deep shame for assuming that he was being insulting, which simply wasn't the case. She rubbed her neck and nervously laughed a short, uncomfortable laugh.

"Oh," she nearly stammered. "Right..."

"You're allowed to have a little pride in it," he pressed on without thinking. Noticing Daelia's sudden confusion, he added. "I'm not sure if you realize, or want to acknowledge your role in a child's development. It is you who will lay the foundation to how a child will behave and grow for the rest of their life. I treat illness and postpone an inevitability… but you? You are shaping the future. It's impressive to say the least…"

Adam cut his gushing off any further; before it sounded obvious that he had a rather large vested interest in her occupation for the next few years at least. Across from him, Daelia's face had turned a very dark purple. She was clearly embarrassed by the praise he had been offering her so freely; so much so she appeared to have been suddenly too choked up to speak.

Silently, Adam reached over the table and patted her outstretched hand. Daelia's eyes dropped immediately on the gesture and finally managed to catch her breath. Exhaling and audibly swallowing, she looked up.

"I… I… well, thank you," she whispered shyly as she shuffled her body in place. "I guess I have thought about that, but I don't think anyone I know has exactly verbalized it quite like that."

A heavy silence again. Daelia continued picking into her dinner carefully, so Adam followed her lead. The lull would be a moment to regroup for both of them, for Adam the whole reminder that all of this was temporary. It would not be long now that he would be called up for deployment when the Fleets crossed through the Kreimhild Relay en masse. He would soon have to figure out what he would have to do with Amala; where she would have to live when he was deployed. He did have considerable influence with Hanala, Joachim and John Hoch. Perhaps they would be able to convince the Wehrmacht to place him at a state side hospital or at Empress Kira Military Hospital on Mars, which would be only a three hour journey from home...

Adam glanced up at Daelia again. She appeared somewhat dazed still by what he had said to her. Setting down her fork, she finished her drink.

"What does your family think about all of this?" Daelia spoke up as her bright blue iris eyes met his. "I know you wanted to come to the Reich to help… but how do they _feel_ about your choice?"

It appeared to have been his turn to be caught off guard by the sincere question which Daelia had suddenly posed to him. It went beyond the simple original variant which she had remarked about earlier. It was the sort of question that not once he ever had to answer in his twelve years living in the Reich. Not even John Hoch made such a query and he was the pinnacle of noisiness when it came to his affairs.

Emitting a short laugh, Adam downed his glass of wine and gestured to the dextro wine next to his own bottle. Daelia looked at the bottle as well. A small smile crossed her face and she nodded, watching as Adam reached over and refreshed her drink before he did so for himself.

"Not highly if that is what you're asking," he spoke as he set down the bottle. "My departure was a bit of a shock, but… if I'm being honest, I had no real attachments to my family. I feel awful for saying that, but it's the truth. My parents divorced when I was pretty young and my siblings had their own things going on. Keeping the family bond together was never a really terribly Ackerson thing to do."

He paused and then eyed her up.

"And you? Did your parents object to your departure?" Adam decided to ask for the hell of it, his tone thick with humour. "I suppose it would be easier for them since quarians are de facto citizens to the Reich and therefore not subject to the immigration laws like the rest of us mere mortals."

Daelia's eyes bulged outwards. It was an uncomfortable expression Adam took a small amusement in. Daelia had been rather inquisitive this evening. It was her turn in the hot seat.

"They…" Daelia started, her hands nervously fidgeting. "They didn't mind it."

Chuckling lightly, Adam leaned forward as he sipped his drink. He decided against pushing the topic any further tonight. The last thing he wanted to do was put her into a nervous fit.

"Well that's good to hear," he said, deciding he could no longer live with making her squirm anymore then she already was doing. "It good at least one of us is in good standing with their family…"

Adam trailed off as his eyes locked onto a rather peculiar sight that was unfolding with their attention focused on each other. Several uniformed Feldgendarmerie officers were following what appeared to be the owner of the restaurant –a middle aged quarian man in a fine suit and a rather strained expression on his face.

As the three men came to a stop, Daelia and Adam shared a look. Both of them were acutely aware that whatever was happening could not bode good news.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention," the owner called out at the top of his lungs.

The many conversations collapsed and focused in onto him and the Feldgendarmerie officers flanking him. Daelia's eyes widened and she looked at Adam for an answer which he had none for. He could only shrug and push his seat next hers as one of the Feldgendarmerie officer's stepped forward, a burly man with a grim face. He removed his cap, revealing thinning hair.

"There was an attack on the U-Bahn twenty minutes ago," the Feldgendarmerie officer announced to the dining room. "Spittelmarkt Station was the designated target of group. It appears that a city-wide demonstration is occurring tonight, although it is uncertain if the two events are linked as there has been no further release on the details. The Berlin garrison commandant, General Heinrich Cassel has placed the city under martial law until further notice; the curfew has been set to 22:00. It is 20:24 right now…"

As the murmuring grew amongst the patrons and a rush to use mobile devices to contact loved ones begun, the officer glanced back to the owner, who stepped forward, his hands latched together.

"As such it is my duty to interrupt this evening and see you all safely off to your homes," the owner announced to everyone. "I apologize for the interruption, but as the officer said this is for the best. There will be no charge tonight for your dining experience…"

Adam raised his eyebrows at the remark. It really must have been serious if the owner was willing to lose money on tonight. That or the he would file for compensation once the dust settled after tonight.

As the patrons stood and begun to file out of the restaurant, Adam glanced back to Daelia who was dropping a large stack of Reichsmarks on the table in defiance of the owner's assurance that the meal would be covered –much more than the dinner likely cost. She was shaking terribly, murmuring to herself in her native Khelish.

Deciding to be a little bold, Adam reached out and covered her hand with his and squeezed. The pressure made Daelia look up and meet him in the eye. Smiling reassuringly, he reached out with his free hand, grabbed her money and placed it back in her purse and instead opened his own wallet.

"I think you were saying something about the Reich being safer?" he spoke with a light humour in his voice.

Daelia remained stoically silent.

**…**

* * *

**…**

The streets of Berlin were beyond tense the closer the two of them got to Pankow. It took all of Daelia's efforts to ignore the surging noise outside of Adam's vehicle as the news bulletin came in.

"_-Early estimates of the casualties are said to be 87 killed, 131 wounded. The six masked gunmen are still at large. Hans-Erich __Gräbner__, the Founder of the Voice for All peace movement has condemned the attacks as an act of 'mindless brutality against innocent men, women and children'. He has reaffirmed the Voice for All position that it was a nonviolent, pro-peace organization dedicated to responsible demonstrations, and that the protests occurring this hour were organized on that date was out of sheer coincidence."_

Peaceful protesting… _right_…

It seemed as though that the entirety of the Berlin Landespolizei, the Reichpolizei and the Feldgendarmerie were out in full force tonight. They were encircling the large demonstration where they could or simply keeping the masses at bay to the best of their considerable ability. Adding to the growing uneasiness stirring in Daelia was that Adam's G-Class was being pelted with things by various people amongst the demonstrators -rocks, eggs and bottles being the most popular choices.

Unlike Daelia, it seemed as though Adam had the patience of a saint with the protesters despite them throwing things at his vehicle. Considering he seemed almost sympathetic to their cause, he paid it no mind.

Daelia, on the other hand, wasn't quite forgiving. Funnily enough none of the other cars in the vicinity were being attacked as Adam's was. It did not take a genius to hypothesis the other vehicles lacked quarian passengers like Adam had. As always, it seem that the protestors were out looking for quarian blood to spill.

It seemed everywhere the protesters carried their signs in a vain attempt to convey their messages to the rest of the country and world. There was simply no media coverage of the events; nothing formal from the looks of it at least. It also seemed as well that Adam's observations were somewhat correct. Very few of the protesters seemed to be of conscription age just yet.

Still… Daelia found herself drawn to the signs regardless.

_**End The Tyranny of Tal'ara!**_

_**Quarians, Leave Earth and Face Your Extinction!**_

_**The Road to Hell is Paved With John Hoch's Words**_

_**National Socialism Didn't Die. It Just Changed Races!**_

Needless to say, the last one had been particularly disturbing. She turned away from it and quickly erased any trace of emotion off her face that might be construed as a reaction. The last thing she wanted to do was show just how effective the protestor's ever present hatred had been on her.

"_A bunch of goddamn idiots out tonight,"_ she heard Adam mutter to her as his eyes focused on the sign carrying protestors.

Without any warning, the chanting protesters were hit with tear gas canisters and moving slowly into the fog of eye burning smoke came the heavy armoured riot police. The traffic started to move as their batons came out and begun their merciless assault on the people. Daelia watched in horror as the violence surged, and then turned away from it quickly. It was an inevitable outcome…

As Adam came to a stop at the checkpoint leading to her home, two sentries from the Feldgendarmie stepped forward on either side of the car. Both of them flashed their flashlights into the vehicle for inspection. Adam tapped the window slider and rolled the glass down for the military police.

"Identification papers for processing," the officer requested roughly.

Daelia dug into her purse and produced her identification. She handed it over to Adam, who grabbed his own and handed them to the officer. Both of them shared a look as the officer scanned each card. Adam smiled, making Daelia's face heat up quickly.

Boots clicked on the pavement. It was the two guards. Both of them were standing at a state of attention.

"You have my apologies, Herr Stabsarzt," the first officer spoke as he handed the identification back to him. "This district is frequently attacked by the leftist anti-war mobs. All precautions must be made to protect our quarian citizenry."

Daelia's eyes widened and she turned her gaze back up to Adam, who seemed to make a point not to return the gaze. Instead he held his kind smile for the Feldgendarmie officer as he took back the identification.

"No apologies are necessary, Leutnant," Adam addressed the officer in an almost official capacity. "If you're in need of help, you have my contact information. I'm trained in both human and quarian physiologies."

The officer inclined his head at the offer.

"Thank you for the offer. I pray we will not need it."

As the officers stepped back and head around how the Feldgendarmie officer addressed him. Adam had been speaking rather negatively about his experience in the Wehrmacht… yet he was still a part of it? How peculiar… flagged their vehicle through the checkpoint, Daelia remained dead silent as she held her eyes on Adam, who seemed to be purposefully focused completely on arriving to their destination. She turned away and tried to wrap her

As Adam came to a stop, Daelia glanced at him once again and removed her safety belt and opened her door without a word. Hesitating for just a moment, she silently gestured for him to join her. Adam obliged her and together they stepped out of the SUV and onto the sidewalk. Daelia waited just long enough for him to join her side before they walked down the sidewalk towards her home.

"So…" she murmured to him, digging her hands into her pockets. "You are still in the Wehrmacht then?"

Adam maintained his eyes forward. They were held on the several young men and women about to pass them by. Like her, his hands were in his pockets.

"I never left in the first place," he spoke briskly, never blinking as the young protesters got nearer. "Part of the contract a volksgerman signs is some form of continuous service to the nation between ages 17 to 50. I left the Heer as a Corporal and trained as a physician. When my education was complete and I got my medical degree, I got a letter telling me I was now a Captain. Fastest damn promotion I ever got-"

Something cold and hard hit Daelia's head with a blinding, sickening thump, splashing her in some sort of liquid and knocking her down to the ground. Daelia was dazed, only for a moment before Adam was down on the ground next to her, his hands lifting her back up to her feet.

"_Daelia_?" Adam spoke over her, his expression filled with worry. "Daelia follow my finger…"

As Adam waved his finger in front of her, Daelia did her utmost to follow along. Her eyes rolled to one side and noticed the still intact glass bottle that struck her in the temple. She supposed she was grateful that the bottle hadn't shattered. Still it hurt terribly; and judging from the expression of serious concern on Adam's face, it must have been terribly frightful to witness.

"_-Race Traitor!"_ she heard one of the girls scream at Adam. _"Listening to the lies of the alien? They'll kill all of us for their lost cause!"_

Daelia gripped her hands tightly around his jacket and begun pushing herself back up to her feet. Taking the hint, Adam pulled her up properly, attempting to stabilize her as she begun to wobble in place. The concern and shock in Adam's expression vanished as he looked up from her and turned his angry eyes to the group of rowdy protestors. He looked as though he wanted blood…

"_Please_… just ignore them…" Daelia requested wiping her face and holding back the urge to cry out.

But Adam hadn't had the time to react to the girl, or the group even if he had wanted to. The girl who threw the liquor bottle at her was suddenly and violently hit in the stomach with a beanbag round. Within seconds, both Adam and Daelia were pushed aside as four riot officers stormed the group, batons out and already beating the sense out them.

"Are you _okay_, Miss Vael?"

Daelia looked at source of the call. Holding a riot gun on the group of thrashed protesters was a woman. Her voice was familiar. It took a moment to put the pieces together. She was the woman officer guarding the district the night she first met Adam. The one who appreciated some kindness Daelia had inadvertently offered.

As Daelia nodded, her hand clutching her forehead, the officer slung the weapon back onto her mag-strip and pulled out her own retractable baton. She stepped forward and joined in the beating her compatriots had started. The screaming of the young protesters got louder as the officer targeted the woman whom she had shot only moments prior.

Watching for a moment, Daelia pulled Adam away and they continued unsteadily down the final stretch to her home in a state of stunned silence. Daelia's foggy mind was still dazed until she felt herself stop at Adam's insistence. Daelia shook her head and noticed that they were standing in front of the front doors. She could see Frederic, the young doorman speaking with residents of the tower. He turned and noticed Daelia and Adam standing there and seemed to excuse himself in order to unlock the door for her.

"I don't think you should leave!" she blurted out to Adam unexpectedly. It even caught her off guard.

Adam tilted his head to one side. He looked at her like she was an overeager child. Daelia's breath caught in the back of her throat, making her cough out.

"What I mean is… I don't think it's safe to drive to Wannsee… not tonight..." she elaborated slowly, her eyes darting from the front door, to Adam, to the street where he left his SUV, and then back to Adam yet again. "I think you should come up with me. Stay the night here. I have a spare room you can use. My sister stays in it on occasion, so I keep it stocked…"

Adam remained silent as he seemed to consider her offer carefully. Looking over his shoulder as the police finally begun the process of detaining the rioters. A small, nervous looking grin crossed his mouth.

"Thank you for the offer, but I think I'll be fine out there," Adam spoke, his voice a strange tone which Daelia just could not quite place. "Besides, I wouldn't want to be an imposition so soon on you..."

"No!" she blurted out again. "I mean…no you might not be. I don't… I don't want you to risk it, so please stay."

Adam turned back to face her. His hand reached up and touched the right side of her chin without waiting for an acknowledgement. It took all her efforts not to yelp in surprise. Instead she remained silent as he lowered her head and inspected her quickly bruising forehead.

For a moment –just for a moment- a sense of daring seeped into her veins.

"I won't… you know… _bite_…" she awkwardly got out. "I promise."

Letting go of her chin, Adam chuckled and widened that sweet smile he had.

"Did you just make a joke?"

Daelia nodded and pressed her back against the glass door.

"Yes, and it was a difficult thing to do," she confessed plainly. "So… so please don't risk going out tonight. Just… stay here, okay?"

Adam cocked his eyebrow and crossed his arms as he once again inspected her face. Daelia remembered her many one sided conversations with Nytalia about dating, boys and men over the many years from her early teenaged years to… well… the other day. Nytalia's assumptions about men told Daelia that all men wanted was to be invited to their respective date's home. At least that was the impression Daelia got, she more or less tried to shut down any conversation that may or may not have strayed too close to her sister's sexual activities

But now here she was and Adam… well... Adam was being quite a challenge to convince to do that so soon into a personal relationship. Whatever was driving this nobility was making her very nervous. What if he did not find her attractive in that sort of way, and that these dates were merely humouring her? What if he was already a married man and he was having his doubts? What if… what if he was gay?

"Well… I suppose I should stick around and make sure you don't have a concussion, even if quarians are little more rubbery boned then humans," Adam finally relented, making Daelia blink. "All right, you go ahead I've got to make a call… rearrange my morning schedule, okay?"

Dumping any concept of him being married or gay, Daelia bounced slightly on her toes. Her expression broke into a nervous smile and she nodded.

"I'll… I'll tell the doorman to let you in."

As Adam nodded in understanding, Daelia pushed herself off the glass and stepped forward. For a moment, just a moment, she closed the gap with the intention to hug him. She paused, however, blinked and instead patted his forearm rather awkwardly. Adam blinked as well as he watched the little affection she could display unfold.

"Right…" Daelia got out. "That was strange, even for me… C-can we… can we just blame that thing on the glass bottle? "

Adam nodded again, his face fighting the urge to grin. Daelia emitted a choking nervous laugh and turned away, tapping on the glass door for the doorman to open for her. As the door opened, she allowed him one more significant look before she turned away and ran her hand over her face as she quickly rushed inside. She needed all the time she could get to get control over her embarrassment before he came up after her.

**…**

* * *

**…**

**Sorry this took so long. I had some real struggling with just how much I wanted to write. There is only so much dating writing I can do before I get bored. From now on it will be more at the level Joachim and Hanala were in the first uplifted stories (minus the rush into a relationship)**

**Next chapter will have more Daelia and Adam as well as a look into the family Jochen von Hoch and Constanze von Hoch nee Stauffenberg have built up.**


	7. Family Matters

**At least the chapter's long...**

**...**

* * *

**...**

**Chapter Seven: Family Matters**

**…**

"_You're not going to believe me, but Alaan'Gavra asked me out!"_

"_You're right, I don't believe you. And you're an idiot if you agree to it. He's scum of the worse sort."_

"_I know that, I'm going to turn him down, obviously. But still, it's flattering._

"_He wants your clan name Sessora, nothing more, dear sister."_

Rolling her eyes at the conversations between Euani, Sessora and Kalui, Nytalia'Xen stepped out of the elevator and down the final path to Daelia's home. The Zorah sisters were loud, rambunctious and trouble in its simplest definition, and on occasion, pretty adorable.

It wasn't always like this for Nytalia. It took quite a while to be at peace with Joru and Malana'Zorah becoming her adopted parents. She was only ten when Mother, Father, Calin, Daro and Haeoi were murdered by radicals. A crime she was spared from enduring thanks to her penchant for ballet at a young age.

Daelia… well Daelia wasn't quite so touched by that sort of good luck. So understandably, Daelia wasn't quite so receptive of her adoptive family as Nytalia had been.

She was a woman who was ran by a severe survivors guilt; Guilt that she survived the ordeal, guilt at the mere thought of so much as giving the impression that she cared for the Zorah family would be a total abandonment of the family they both lost. That was not to say she was ungrateful. Daelia did care for them in her own way. She just was not about to let the memory of the Vael clan from dying out. For her, the past seemed to be much more important than the present day. For her, their birth family would always come first.

This was one of the few friction points between the two biological sisters. 25 years of sisterhood and still Nytalia could not quite get into Daelia's logic. Sure, she understood the value of keeping the past alive, but Daelia took it to a whole different level. One where she more or less paid little attention to the family which raised her as one of her own for far, far longer than their parents were able to do. It just felt so… cold and callous to Nytalia; and judging from the reactions of their adoptive parents, they felt somewhat similar as she, even if they dare not confess they felt the same. Daelia may not have been flesh and blood, but she was family to them. If only she could understand that…

So this was an intervention of sorts. It was decided by the Zorah sisters that it was high time to drag Daelia back into the family, if only for tonight. With any luck a direct confrontation would convince her to at least try. So that she would be reminded of just how loved she actually was.

"Daeeelia…" Nytalia called out as the girls entered the home. "Lia? Are you here?!"

Nytalia paused and took in Daelia's sterile, minimalist home. There were no mementos, no pictures and no frivolities of any sort period. It was pure functionality over ascetics. That was her sister through and through. For Daelia it must have been comfortable, but to Nytalia it looked like the place was created by an interior designer with severe OCD and a fear of any other colour then white.

"Huh," Sessora called out as she slumped onto Daelia's couch. "She's usually on a schedule, even on the weekend, right?"

Nytalia nodded. Yes, the concept of a weekend as free time freaked Daelia out quite a bit, even in her youth. Everything had to be planned out at least a day in advance. She was either at one of two places on a Sunday morning, shopping or at Church services. She wasn't particularly devout a follower, but she held up a faith, if only to pay tribute to those that they lost. Daelia had occasionally tried to get Nytalia to come; and on occasion she would her indulge her sister's beliefs, but that did not mean she believed in them.

"I just hope she wasn't caught out in the protests last night," Nytalia murmured quite pensively. "I keep telling her she should move out of the city-"

"Cool, looks like she loosened up a little last night!"

Nytalia turned to Euani. She held up a bottle of wine for all the women to see. Three quarters of its contents had been drained. Nytalia frowned. Daelia had a drink every now and then, but never did she actually keep alcohol of any sort in her home.

Silently, Nytalia sighed and watched as Sessora took a swig straight from the wine bottle and passed it on to the 17 year old Euani, who glanced at her eldest –albeit adopted sister- and then took a drink as well. Nytalia rolled her eyes and turned away as she yawned out loud.

"I'm going to go and lay down," Nytalia murmured to them. "Wake me up when Daelia returns, will you?"

She did not receive a reply, but the laughing chattering of Khelish was enough for her. Pushing one hand through her hair, the other gripping the bottom of her baby bump, Nytalia left her siblings to their gossip and drinking as she made her way slowly down the hall towards her sister's spare bedroom.

As tempted as she might have been to take Daelia's heavenly bed, she knew better than to tempt fate with that girl as much as she had been lately. Daelia was extraordinarily patient with her since she announced she was pregnant to her. It was endearing and rather nerve wracking. Nytalia could not help but feel worried that Daelia figured that the expansion of her family with Jorah would result in the diminishing of their time together. In some ways, she supposed that would be true, but it was not as if she was going to just flat out abandon her baby sister because a child was on the way.

If only there was some way to convey that message to Daelia. She could reassure her until she was blue in the face and still be uncertain whether or not Daelia got the message in its entirety. It wasn't that Daelia was stupid by any means. She just sort of processed words differently. She looked for hidden meanings, she listened to the tone, but she just could not accept words on face value.

Silencing her ponderings, she yawned out loud yet again. Keelah, it felt as though she was permanently lethargic nowadays. It was a real annoyance considering that she was a woman who kept herself in shape. Now thanks to the pregnancy all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep 20 hours a day. She would need all the sleep she could get now. Once the child came, it would be sleepless nights for many, many months afterwards…

Opening the door to the spare bedroom, Nytalia yanked off her soft sweater and collapsed onto the bed. Moaning, she pulled herself up the soft mattress and wrapped herself tightly in the bedding and closed her eyes. She paid no attention to the strange vibration rolling through the mattress.

"_Huh… You're certainly not Daelia."_

She certainly could not ignore that.

Any and all fatigue she felt vanished in a heartbeat. She opened her eyes and found herself staring into dull blue eyes staring right back at her. It took all of Nytalia's efforts not to scream out in shock right there and then. Why… why in the hell was a _human _laying there in Daelia's spare room!?

Nytalia swallowed the knot building in her throat.

"Who are _you_ and why are you in Daelia's spare bedroom?" she demanded right away. Her voice carefully level just in case the human acted human and did something brash like killing her.

Pulling himself off his elbow, the human sat up and rested his spine against the arch of the bed board. His stern expression reformed into one of amusement by the question she was demanding to know.

"I was invited to be here by the person who _owns_ this place. Now, I could ask you the exact same thing," the human grumbled. "Who are _you_ and why are you in Daelia's apartment, and in her spare bedroom?"

_Touch_é. Nytalia rubbed the back of her neck and sat up as well. She tried and failed spectacularly to avert her eyes to the human's bare chest and the two tattoos he wore on his flesh. A numeral '_14'_ on his right pectoral and what appeared to be a blood unit tattoo used by the Wehrmacht for rapid, low tech blood type identification.

The human squinted as he inspected her face once again.

"I presume that you're Daelia's sister?"

Nytalia forced her eyes off the man's body and met the human eye to eye yet again. She smiled and nodded as a dawning of realization washed over her. The wine, Daelia's absence; It all was making sense to her now… It was _him._

_Keelah_, Daelia certainly knew how to pick them – Handsome…well… for a human at least. She had half expected that Adam Ackerson was some sort of cripple or mangled, socially awkward shut-in considering just how John Hoch had described him as _'damaged goods'_. He seemed perfectly fine to her. Better than fine if she was being honest…

"And you must be Adam Ackerson, whom Daelia has gushed about… well, maybe not gushed, but certainly acknowledged as an interest," Nytalia addressed the man with a carefully guarded smile. "I don't know if I should be angry that you've ended up here after one date, or impressed that Daelia was open enough to permit you into her home so soon. Perhaps she finally acknowledged that this was her third date with you…"

The serious expression vanished off Adam Ackerson's face. He broke down into a chuckle and without any shame; he pulled himself out of bed to reveal he was only in a pair of black boxer shorts.

"Well, it was purely her idea but it was completely benign, I assure you," He spoke as he turned back to face her. "I didn't want to intrude, but she made it her business not to let me go out alone past last night's curfew. Things… got a little crazy here, so…"

Adam raised his hands in some sort of strange gesture that meant nothing to Nytalia. She supposed that explanation would make sense.

"That was… uncharacteristically conscientious of her," was her response. Adam Ackerson stared at her for a moment and then nodded. Slowly he craned his neck to one side.

"So… is she home?" he finally asked out loud, his low rumble making her shiver for a fraction of a second. "She doesn't exactly strike me as the type who'd let her sister crawl in the same bed with a man she just went out with."

Nytalia could only shrug.

"Frankly, this isn't something I've ever seen before from my baby sister, so I can't say for sure," she confessed to the man with a mild grin. "She must have went out to the stores or something Get dressed, will you? Daelia's other sisters are in the lounge. You might as well step up and bear through the awkwardness."

Grinning as she watched the man turn sheet white at the statement, Nytalia departed his company and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the door for a moment. Honestly she did not think that Daelia had it in her. It seemed more likely that she would have waited until at least December and then only go on a solitary date, then burn the bridge the moment she concluded the encounter. That was Daelia's M.O. Not… well… this.

Unable to believe that this was happening inside her lifetime, Nytalia chuckled and then pushed herself off the door, wandering down the hallway to re-join her siblings. They would soon be in for quite the surprise when the human stumbled out of that bedroom.

As Nytalia re-entered the lounge, she found the girls had already taken over the room and made it their own. On the holoprojector was the pirated signal from the American Music Television channel and all of them were clutching large glasses of the wine that Daelia had left out. They only looked at her when she slumped down hard onto the couch next to Sessora, her hair rubbing the back of her head.

"You're _not_ going to believe what dear Daelia's been up to…" was all she could say.

**…**

* * *

**…**

"Fahnenjunker-Gefreiter Von Hoch, eyes up front, now."

Annoyed by the public shaming, Joachim-Claus von Hoch averted his eyes and grin for his fellow Fahnenjunker-Gefreiter Helena Knispel, who was close to a giggle and tilted his head to one side as he directed his stare up to the teacher who was interrupted his time from his flirtations and bane of his existence, Major Friedrich von Bock.

Old Friedrich von Bock was from even older Prussian blood then Hoch was, but unlike his legacy, he was nothing like his siblings, father or late Grandfather, Fedor von Bock. He was a miserable bastard who seemed to be relegated to school because he had no real talent at anything other than instructing from the book. He had no presence, no character; he was just a Prussian stereotype without any of the teeth.

This was bullshit. Officer training was the last thing he wanted to do with his life. All that he wanted was to do the three years of mandatory service and then go to school. Perhaps figure out a way to convince Uncle John to take him into his business. That had better been the case at any rate. Uncle John made a deal with him: Officer Training, three years of active service and Uncle John would fund his post-Wehrmacht education.

Why Uncle John wanted him to serve was beyond his understanding. All that he had said on the subject was that he didn't want to see his brother's struggle for a title undermined by his snot nosed son; and unlike the rest of the Hoch's, John was not above bribes to get what he wanted. This was why Uncle John was Joachim's favourite relative. He wanted more from life then what simple service provided. In a country that made such ambitious people out to be selfish and unpatriotic, Uncle John stood as a contrarian figure, both hated and loved by others, and yet unconcerned by all of that.

"_Stand up, Hoch."_

Joachim stood up. He held his dull expression on the Major. It was an expression that was driving Von Bock past the point of annoyance. Neither the student wanted to be here, nor the teacher certainly did not want to teach him. They were going through the motions for other men.

"Since you're so keen on communication with your Kameraden, I would like the class to hear in your own words about the new German Aristocracy," Von Bock demanded as he set down his datapad and wrapped his hands behind his back.

Joachim glanced at his seatmate Helena gave her a knowing looking. He watched her shake her head. It was her silent plea not to escalate the tension built between the student and teacher.

"It exists," was his answer. The words were enough to make Helena groan and smack her forehead against her desk.

Just as there was no snarky humour in Joachim's blunt assessment of the state of the Aristocratic class, there was no laughter at his utterance. Judging from the expressions of retightened control that was on the face of every classmate around him, there was nothing stopping them from bursting out into laughter then Major Von Bock's sheer stern rage for his student's insolence.

"Don't get smart with me, _boy_," Von Hoch growled at Joachim. "I know your grandfather, one call to him and you will-"

Joachim could not stop himself before it got out of hand, he flat out laughed out loud at the suggestion that of all people it would be his _grandfather_ who would be the most upset upon hearing that he was being insolent. The same man who was the only one who tried to persuade his parents and him _not _to go through officer training in the Heer!

"I think I know my Grandfather better than you do," Joachim decided to remind the instructor. "I think he'd approve since he didn't want yet another generation of Hoch's serving the Reich in the meat grinder and has more or less held this opinion before you were even born-"

"_**JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION… NOW!"**_

Wiping the smile off his expression, Joachim inclined his head, cleared his throat and begun:

_"Following the collapse the National Socialist regime, Kaiser Louis Ferdinand spent the first two months scouring Germany for politicians untainted by the politics of the Nazis to form an interim civilian government, independent of Wehrmacht interference,"_ he started. _"He could not find enough. Most were either killed or so disillusioned by the Fatherland's experimentation with a republic, they outright refused to serve._

_As it became increasingly clear that he would be unable to form a suitable interim government without the assistance of captured National Socialist party members, Kaiser Ferdinand was left with no option other than to turn control over the matters of government to the Wehrmacht Council. That was when Admiral Hanala'Jarva came up with a solution: The recommissioning of the German Aristocracy into the new Reich. In its simplest definition, it was not dissimilar to that of the Feudal era. Mayors of town and cities would act as representatives of the people to noble families, who in turn reported directly to the Kaiser, who would exercise his absolute authority._

_Although the representative Federal Monarchy has since returned, the aristocratic society has flourished and has continued to this day. However their power is not unlimited and unquestioned. There is an official agreement. In return for the rights and privileges of the Aristocracy, they are obligated to serve the people and defend the Reich at all times and held to a higher standard than the common citizen. Any sort of shirking in their duties and the family in question will be disbarred from their certain privileges and titles. Something which both Kaiser Ferdinand and now Victor-Marius has done without hesitation. In order to supplement for the failures of other families, the Junker society must establish a new family of notable service to the Reich for every family they disowned..."_

"With your family being the newest members of the Aristocracy," Von Bock interrupted the young cadet, his hand rising to silence him. He held his piggy eyes tight on Joachim's.

Pursing his lips together, Joachim nodded.

"Yes Herr Major, with my family included in the same circle as yours is," Joachim retorted, draining any sort of emotion from his voice. "I'm sure you find that delightful... I know I certainly do."

The remark, designed specifically to get a rise out of the old man simply did not work. Instead, Von Bock did something rather unexpected. His stern expression formed into a wide grin. He stepped from the front of the desk, walking down the aisle with his hands behind his back. He stopped inches away from Joachim, who ignored the sudden uneasy feeling that perhaps he might have driven his instructor a little too far.

"Many good, solid families were removed from the Aristocracy, eventually permitting your family into the circle. Tell me Joachim, when the time comes, will you serve?" Von Bock asked out loud, his taunting as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Will you lay down your life in service to the people and to our Kaiser? Will you honour the sacrifice of millions of your ancestors who protected you from National Socialist, Bolshevik and Plutocratic threats and the many brothers who will perish in the coming interstellar incursion?"

The shark-like smile on Von Bock's face vanished. An expression of pure malice was there instead.

"Or will you do what I suspect you _will _do," he added, dropping an octave as he glared down his eyeglasses to the younger student. "Destroy the endless struggles of your Father's herculean efforts to legitimize your disgusting, _mix breed_ family and continue the legacy of the Hoch's of old –Nazi criminals in the right place and time with the right friends to make the world forget just how _vile_ they really are…"

The words of the Major penetrated right through Joachim's defences. It left him utterly shaken. He expected some sort of blow back… but that was… well it was a surprise. All of his classmates were stunned as well. It was utterly taboo to speak of the Hoch family's mixed species family in a negative connotation -at least in the opening. Silence made the teacher smirk at shattering the confidence of the cocky 16 year old.

"Anything else smart to say, Fahnenjunker-Gefreiter, or have you finally understood the value in silence?" Von Hoch demanded.

Joachim remained stone silent, but still standing. Snorting in clear disgust, Major Von Bock turned away and trudged back up to the front of the class. His ability to breathe severely restricted by the rage flowing through him, Joachim ignored Helena Knispel as she tugged his sleeve. Her eyes were widened as she seemed to understood that there was no way he was about to drop the matter without a fight.

"_Don't you do it,"_ she breathed up to him furiously. _"Don't you do it, you moron."_

"_Herr Instructor!"_

Inwardly he laughed as Helena groaned out loud. Von Bock turned back to find Joachim still standing there, his cocky grin pressed onto his face once again.

"In response to your claim that I am somehow apathetic to my Father's plight to clean my family name after being painted as opportunistic alien lovers. I wish to refute the claim," Joachim spoke warmly to his instructor. "You see l obviously care about my father's work, Herr Von Bock. I am here in a military academy I do not want to be in, wearing this fake, _fucking_ uniform and taking instructions from easily the single worst member of the Von Bock family and ultimate justification for abortion that I have ever met."

Joachim gleefully watched Von Bock's face shift colour.

"Considering these factors," he concluded with a daring grin. "I think I'm towing his line, don't you think?"

**…**

* * *

**…**

Jackboots stamped and high heels clicked along the marble floors of the _Preußische Kriegsakademie _as Generalmajor Jochen von Hoch in full uniform and Countess Constanze von Hoch in her best moved together down a path the two of them were unfortunately called to walk down what felt like every other week.

This was hardly a new thing if Constanze was being completely honest. Joachim always had a rather nasty attitude when it came to being in situations that called for obedience. So for him being born into a family of soldiers, it must have been seriously difficult.

Poor Jochen looked like he was about to have a fit judging from the way he was muttering to himself. There was only one other man in his life that drove Jochen so furiously and that was his elder brother, Reinhardt whom more than once Jochen had asked if she had slept with him at some point in order to explain the behaviour of his son.

Well she hadn't. Admittedly, it was a tempting suggestion, but frankly John Hoch spooked the life out of her. She hadn't spent a particularly long amount of alone time with her brother-in-law. She was always nervous that the charming mask would vanish at any point and reveal the fascist that her husband believed was still firmly fixed into his capitalist heart just as Jochen had always warned existed.

"This is getting out of hand," Joachim grumbled to his wife as he barely acknowledged the student officers snap to attention as he passed them by. "How many times are we going to get called down to discuss Joachim? What is it with that boy and pressing the buttons of the staff?"

Constanze smiled at her husband as he held open the doorway leading to the school commandant offices.

"I blame your father's genetics," she remarked. "He inherited his strong urge to piss off the upper echelons from him. That and this is exactly how I heard your Father acted before he signed into the SS -a troublesome youth who needed the discipline of military service to break him from his attitude."

Joachim rolled his eyes as he removed his peaked cap and placed it underneath his arm. His other hand patting down his hair just in case it was fussed up.

"No, I blame your Father's genetics," he retorted he glanced around the offices at the administration staring at him. "Claus was always an entitled troublemaker. My Father had the excuse of poverty and a lack of sufficient family. Joachim has neither problems, he's a spoiled reactionary in need of a serious attitude adjustment… just like your Father."

Glaring at Joachim for suggesting that her Father Claus von Stauffenberg was anything short of a saint was grounds for execution amongst the Stauffenberg clan. Jochen was just lucky he was the father of her children with their seventh on the way…

Kissing her husband's cheek, she watched in mild glee as he struggled not to react out of pure professionalism. He told her specifically not to engage in public displays of affection, particularly when he was in his uniform. Usually she honoured his request, but sometimes the urge was simply too much to resist. Muttering under his breath, he knocked on the Commandant office and opened the door, allowing her to enter first once again.

Sitting there across from one another in absolute silence was the Oberst ranked commandant, whom Constanze had no idea his name and Joachim-Claus, who sat there equally as stoic and motionless. His face was bruised up terribly. He did not so much as turn to look at either of his parents.

Jochen stepped forward. As he did so, the Oberst stood up and clicked his heels together. Jochen saluted the Commandant and then placed one of his hands onto his son's shoulder. Joachim remained staring straight forward.

"Commandant, might I and my wife have a word with our son before we speak?" Jochen requested, his hand rocking his eldest son's shoulder back and forth. "It would be preferable he is sent back to his studies rather than sit through this."

The commandant took a deep breath and turned his eyes down to look at the emotionlessly remorseless Joachim for a long four seconds. Slowly, he nodded. Jochen let go of his son and stepped back, allowing Joachim to stand from his seat and walk out of the offices without a single word. Jochen exchanged a glance at Constanze and followed suit. Constanze smiled diplomatically to the Commandant and followed after her husband and son. Out of the main offices and back out into the hallways of the school.

"I see that you're in trouble yet again," Jochen pointed out the obvious as soon as the coast was clear. "Come with me."

"That I am, Dad. That I am," Joachim spoke casually as he followed after his Father. He turned back to Constanze and smiled, adding, "Hello Mother, I'm sorry you had to be here…"

"Is this what you live for, son?" Constanze immediately replied, not allowing herself a chance to be sucked into his sweet talk. "Aggravating your teachers until they have full blown meltdowns? And who _hit_ you!"

Joachim waved her off dismissively.

"Friedrich von Bock's a mouthy _fuck_ who hates our family," Joachim spoke out loud, his coarse language making Constanze's eyes bulge wide. "I was about to drop it when he decided to call us a bunch of filthy mix breeds. What was I supposed to do? Put up with it? I thought family honour was sort of the big thing in this family."

Joachim's father stopped and turned around. He reached out and grabbed Joachim by his shoulders and leaned inwards. Jochen was clearly disappointed, but whether or not that disappointment was getting through to his son remained to be seen. Joachim was rather shameless.

"Yes, you put up with it," he all but pleaded to his child. "_Son,_ you have the potential reach the upper echelons of command like I, like your Grandfather. You just have to pay your dues, reach Oberstleutnant and come back to this school and rub it in Von Bock's face. His mediocrity demands he makes students feel like shit… just watch."

The three of them paused outside what Constanze assumed to be Von Bock's classroom, where they could hear the droning of instructions occurring just behind the door. Pulling his cap back over his head, Jochen opened the door and stepped inside the classroom leaving the door ajar. Constanze watched in mild amusement as every man and woman in the classroom shot straight out of their chairs at the sight of the Generalmajor standing in the doorway.

Footsteps approached and a bespectacled man roughly Jochen's age stepped out in front of Joachim, snapping his arm into a crisp salute.

"Herr Generalmajor," Major von Bock addressed his superior. "How can I be of service to you?"

"I just thought I should check on my former classmate. You know, to make sure isn't the same terrorizer that he was back in our youth," Jochen addressed the Major humorously. His words making the class room of officer applicants laugh out loud. "May I have a word with you outside? I will not keep you from your teachings any longer than is necessary."

The Major remained silent. His eyes peered over Jochen's shoulder to where Joachim stood. Joachim's eyes were filled with a defiant hatred that smouldered. It was perturbing for Constanze to witness from one of her own children. She should have expected it, if she was being perfectly honest. It was something straight out of the Hoch blood rage.

Slowly, Von Bock stepped out into the hallway and Jochen closed the door. As soon as the instructor turned around to face the Generalmajor, Jochen snapped his hand out and levelled it hard against Von Bock's face. The man staggered and stared stupidly up at Jochen, who grabbed him by the front of his uniform and levelled his index finger at him.

"If I were you, I would reconsider your attitude towards both my family and to the student population in general," Jochen growled at the training officer. "You never who might have enough pull to drag you kicking and screaming out of this safe and comfortable school and sent east to patrol the Soviet DMZ… or on the first ships into the Perseus Veil…"

Allowing the statement to sink in, Jochen pushed the man back down onto his knees and stepped back until he was once again at Constanze's side. Jochen's stern glare at Von Bock remained hard as he turned to his child, whose arms were crossed.

"Joachim," Jochen snapped at his son. "Do you have something to say to Major Von Bock?"

Joachim remained silent, still staring at his teacher. It wasn't defiance that kept him silent. He seemed to be struggling to find the right words to use. Emulating his Father, Joachim-Claus stepped forward and offered his hand out to his teacher.

"You have my apologies for my rudeness as well as my curt nature," he spoke to his teacher, keeping his hand out to him. "I sometimes forget my place. You're right to question my desire to serve… but I will serve."

Von Bock stared at the hand, and then back to the watching Generalmajor. He reached out and took Joachim's hand and stood back up properly. He straightened out his uniform and refused to look his student in the eye.

"Very well…" Von Bock muttered. He glanced to the glaring Generalmajor for a moment and then added, "and I'm… sorry that I have placed my personal opinion on the true nature of your family before professional instruction. I will make a conscious effort to limit my opinions in the future… I shall see you in class tomorrow."

Jochen took three steps forward towards Von Bock and moved his son behind him. Constanze smiled privately. It was clear that despite his posturing about his son being a spoiled brat, he was still going to protect him no matter how much shit disturber he might have been. It was terribly sweet of the big, tough Generalmajor.

"See that you do," Jochen demanded. "And if you _touch_ my boy again over something as benign as words, I will bring this matter up to Generalfeldmarschall von Manstein about your lack of spine, and then I will _end_ you."

Satisfied his implied violent message had seeped into Von Bock, Jochen stepped back and ignored the teacher as he turned tail and rushed back into the safety of the classroom. Hopefully for him a changed man after this encounter. Jochen paused in front of Constanze, his hand reaching out to pat her hand before he turned back to face eldest son. His stern expression broke into a small grin. It was clear he had enjoyed that.

"That's how you do it, Joachim," Jochen addressed his son, pressing his hand on his shoulder. "Pick your battle, bide your time and come in on your opponent from a position of power. Being the underdog will only get you so much. Only fools want to fight at a disadvantage."

Rolling his eyes, Joachim pushed his Father's hand off his shoulder and stepped away from his parents.

"_Fuck_ that, and _fuck_ being a professional soldier. I'm finishing school here, doing my active service and then going to an actual school," Joachim informed his parents, disgusted at the concept of continuous service. "I'm going to work for Uncle John instead of this goddamn death factory. Money gets you as much, if not, more respect than the number of badges on your chest, and as a perk I get to keep my head rather than get it blown off by some geth platform!"

Joachim glanced at the old clock hanging on the wall, leaving his parents equally stunned by the confession he was making out loud. Jochen looked close to having a fit at the mere mention that of all the people his son wanted to be like, it was his Uncle.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have P.T. in ten," Joachim finished. He smiled as he added. "Mom, it was good seeing you again."

Kissing Constanze on the cheek, Joachim stepped back from his dumbfounded parents and made his way down the hallway to join the rest of his class.

"Perhaps he's more like my Father after all," Constanze mused out loud. "He's surprisingly sensible... too sensible to be like your Father."

Constanze stifled the urge to laugh at the glare Jochen emitted.

"This conversation isn't over, boy!" Jochen called out to his son as Joachim walked away from his parents towards his P.T.

"I'm sorry, Father!" Joachim barked right back, throwing his hand in the air dismissively. "What can I say? Not all of us can be a saint like your _precious_ Charlotte!"

**…**

* * *

**…**

The vessel rocked and buckled under the pressure of the attack violently, kicking Charlotte von Hoch out of her command seat and knocking her to the steel floor of the command deck. She shook off the attempt of her second to help her back up to her feet and stood up straight once again.

Wiping the blood flowing from her nose onto her jacket, Charlotte swayed unsteadily down the line of officers and crew attempt to maintain order over the failing _RFS-Rostov_. Her mind was blank as wire flew out of panels and smoke filled the command deck. Her eyes were held on the ten geth vessels looming towards her crippled ship.

"Kapitän, we have fires on the aft decks four and seven!" she heard screamed behind her.

Charlotte turned back to the lead ship monitor Jürgen Meyer. His eyes were wide and blood was pouring from an open gash. He could not have been more than 18 and he appeared to have been close to a full on collapse. If she was being honest with herself, Charlotte would have been right there with him, but she couldn't. She had a job to do. She had three hundred souls under her command and she fully intended on getting as many of them alive as she could out of this encirclement.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her handkerchief and pressed it against Jürgen's wound until he took it from her.

"Deploy fire suppression systems and have maintenance and Damage control in full firefighting gear and on standby," she ordered the younger man softly. "I want the life pods prepar-"

"_**WE HAVE FULL GRAVITATIONAL LOSS IN 3,2-"**_

The Rostov groaned and buckled yet again. True the screaming of her X.O, all gravity vanished and every man, woman and object not bolted to the ship lost its mass and flew upwards. Blood from the crewmembers pooled and formed floating liquid spheres. Taking a moment to acclimatize herself, Charlotte put her zero-g training to good use and pushed herself away from observation and back down towards the command bridge. She gripped the railing and forced herself in a semi-standing position.

"Stay at your posts!" she finally raised her voice in order to retain discipline back over her crew. "I want a situation report in 45 seconds!"

Falling silent, Charlotte watched as her panicking, demoralized crew forced their bodies back to their posts. She allowed them her allotted time to reorganize themselves and prepare a brief statement of their ship status. It was a status Charlotte already knew was doomed. She just needed to know how soon she would meet her doom.

The only one to approach her was XO, Korvettenkapitän Selene Auffarth. She was as dead eyed as Charlotte.

"The mass effect field is collapsing, kinetic barriers down to 14 percent operational strength, armour plating integrity failing, point to point ship defence grid is failing and weapons are running hot with heavy casualties in the fire control room," her XO stated grimly. She checked her datapad, and then added. "A geth raiding party is being held off by security on portside decks three, five and seven. Leutnant Hesse has stated the geth are moving this way to neutralize us."

Pursing her lips together, Charlotte looked away and closed her eyes. So there it was in black and white. They were truly fucked. Exhaling, she turned back to Korvettenkapitän Auffarth.

"How many ships are within 50,000 kilometres?"

The Korvettenkapitän looked at her datapad and immediately glanced back up to her.

"Fourteen. All of them are closing in, Herr Kapitän."

Nodding grimly, Charlotte cleared her throat and let go of the railing, allowing herself to float until she was high above the crew.

"This is it, Gentlemen… our final stand," she announced to everyone. "Target in order of damage severity of the enemy ships, make sure we send as much munitions off this ship and into theirs as possible, I want to divert all auxiliary power into the weapons and shields and begin the process of power diversion from the lower decks. Helmsman put the _Rostov_ in full rotational movements for as long as possible. We need as much gravity as we can get."

A chorus of '_Aye's'_ was sent back to her and the groaning Rostov was suddenly begun the full rotations. Charlotte brought herself down to the grown and dragged herself along to the communications centre and activated the ship wide comm system.

"This is Kapitän zur Raum Charlotte von Hoch," she started without thinking. She paused for a second and then added. "The Rostov has been compromised. All nonessential crew members and marine fire teams are to file in an orderly manner towards the life pods and prepare to abandon ship. It's been an honour serving alongside you all."

Concluding her message, she signed off and allowed herself to sit down as the rotational gravity kicked in. As soon as weapons were offline, she would send her bridge crew to safety next, then she would activate the self-destruct sequence and set course for the largest geth ship she could limp toward-

The ship stopped groaning and rotating, the power came back on, the air flow normalized and the humming of the mass effect field could be felt from where Charlotte was sitting.

"_Training exercise has concluded,"_ the voice of the operational overseer called to the trainees._ "All students are to report directly to shuttlebay seven for evacuation to Port Deimos sickbay for further treatment. Welcome back to your second chance at life, sailors."_

Charlotte moaned as she pushed herself out of her seat and attempted to fix up her hair. As relieved as she might have been, she still found herself feeling a little frustrated. That was her Valhalla moment. If she was going to die in battle, she would die in a matter that befitted her namesake… a way that would make her Papa proud of her.

Approaching her was her smiling class make Oberfähnrich zur Raum Selene Auffarth. Now that she had a moment to take in the superficial, Charlotte took note of her friend's fat lip, bruising eye and blood flowing from her ear. Jesus Christ was the quarian naval exercises tough as nails. There was no room for the faint hearted and that was what put them above and beyond the Raumstreitflotte –at least until they crossed over the Relay and into Citadel and geth occupied space.

"Think we did a good job, Charlie?" she asked rather brightly for a woman with her face mashed up. "Well you certainly did."

"_Charlotte," _she naturally corrected Selene. Slowly she smiled and together Charlotte and Selene stepped down the battered command deck, pausing to allow ship maintenance to begin the process of repairs for the next batch of students. "And yeah… I think you and everyone was great under circumstances. It wasn't supposed to be an easy hands-on assignment, wasn't it?"

"_Oberfähnrich zur Raum Von Hoch,"_ the overseer called out before Selene could respond. _"You are to report to shuttle-bay three and head directly to the Commandant offices for debriefing."_

Glancing at her friend, Charlotte chuckled, patted her shoulder, cracked her aching back and double timed it out of the command deck. It wasn't every day that the Admiral wanted to meet a single student.

**…**

* * *

**…**

Stepping out the elevator, Daelia'Vael removed her loose hanging head scarf, her sunglasses and stashed away her rosary beads as she gripped her small bag of human foods tightly in her other hand. As nice as Church had been this Sunday morning, she just could not wait around to do her confessions and practice the holy ancestral sacraments. Perhaps she would come back in the evening time. All she wanted was to be home and with Adam for breakfast.

Despite the protests and their evening being cut short, and the throbbing in her forehead, she had a rather wonderful evening. Now this breakfast just had to go smoothly so that Adam didn't think it was a fluke and they would be able to repeat their activities in the near future. Perhaps even make it something official.

_Something official_… now that was a very strange concept to her; not long ago she enjoyed her solitude and now here she was with a complete strange now entering her life so suddenly. Was this what life as Nytalia was like… or was like before she met Jorah?

Shaking her head, she clenched up tight as two Mandate military officers stepped out of a condo which they were renting and continued down the final length of the hallway to her home. As she reached the door, she could hear something strange inside. It was laughter. Not Adam's laughter and not the canned laughter on the holo-broadcasts, but a high pitched feminine laughter that sounded far, far too familiar.

Daelia entered her home and froze dead in place, her heart plunging down into her stomach as she noticed a stack of shoes and coats.

_No, no, no, no, no._ This could not be happening to her. Not now, not today of all days!

Slowly, reluctantly, Daelia closed the door behind her and made her reluctant steps towards the kitchen where she heard not only Nytalia, but her adopted siblings echoing from.

Sure enough, sitting there with a seemingly amused smile and surrounded by the Zorah sister`s and Nytalia was Adam Ackerson, a glass of water resting between his fingers. He looked a little confused by the constant shifting between German and Khelish between the family members, but as always, somehow managed to remain completely collected.

Adam looked up and met her gaze. His face, strained by the conversations he was engaged in brightened at the sight of her.

"Hello Daelia," he spoke. His words broke the conversations occurring around the dining table and the next one to turn was Nytalia. Her eyes widened at the sight of her.

"Hi… Adam," Daelia spoke before Nytalia could point out the obvious. Lifting the bag up to show him, she added. "I-I brought you something to eat before you had to go. You bought dinner last night. It's the least I could do…"

"Daelia what _happened_?!" Nytalia gasped cutting through Daelia's words with Adam. "Your head is all bruised up!"

Touching her forehead, Daelia looked at Adam, who winced slightly.

"It was nothing," Daelia promised her concerned sister, her voice devoid of any and all feelings. "One of the protesters hit me last night with a bottle. It was too dangerous to be out on the streets. That's why Adam stayed the night_… in the spare room_, _I mean_… Look, I don't mean to be rude, but what do you want out of me?"

Nytalia, horrified by the bottle attack on Daelia looked to the Zorah girls for a moment. Exhaling, she returned her eyes back to her little sister.

"Look we'll get straight to the point, Daelia, and then we'll be on our way," Nytalia spoke up again. "We really want you to come and visit Mom and Dad. I know that you're busy, but…"

Daelia remained silent, turned away and tuned them completely out. Whether she wanted to tune them out or not was not up to her. It was a pure self-defence that happened the moment she stumbled into scenarios she did not want to stumble into. Such like now, like whenever her siblings chose to stick their collective noses in to matters that are of none of their concern. Whenever they offered her unsolicited advice or tried to groom her to do things like date or join them on activities.

Minutes past by before she shook herself out of her near catatonia; it was the reminder of the plastic bag of human food that caught her attention. Silently she walked back over to the cabinet and pulled out several plates, a bowl and a spoon, knife and fork of Adam. The buzzing of her siblings growing was louder and louder.

Clamping her mouth shut, Daelia set down the pastries, fruit salad, eggs and bacon in front of Adam, her eyes careful to avoid both his and her sisters, all of whom watching the interaction between the two with excited interest. This was easily the most uncomfortable she had ever felt in quite some time. Why couldn't they just go and leave her and Adam alone? Their intrusion into her private life was not welcomed.

"I forgot," Adam suddenly spoke, his voice booming out right over the four chattering women. His eyes directed once again to her. "Just how old are you again, Daelia?"

Daelia snapped out of her self-imposed exile from the conversation and looked at Adam carefully.

"I'm 25," she reminded him, uncertain of his exact intent.

Staring back at her, Adam nodded.

"Oh," he spoke, sounding rather stunned at her age. He turned to Nytalia and directed his eyes into hers, adding. "Strange. Judging from the way they're speaking I would have thought… I don't know… _ten_, _eleven_ maybe _twelve_ at the absolute most."

Sessora gasped, Kalui and Euani were scandalized and Nytalia's face was turning purple from Adam's plainly spoken words. Adam huffed slightly and swallowed another mouthful of the pastry. It took all of Daelia's efforts not to break out into a wide smile as she felt her heart skip a beat. She could not believe anyone had the nerve to stand up to a pregnant Nytalia and the Zorah sisters and be so utterly causal about it. So cool and collected.

Where was he her entire life!? So many issues between the blood sisters could have been resolved so much sooner!

Setting down his pastry, Adam looked back up to Nytalia.

"You asked for my opinion earlier, so here it is: Daelia is an adult, and an adult is allowed to come up with her own decisions about how often she wants to interact with her family," Adam stated matter-of-factly, his hands folding together on the table, "Daelia needs neither the hand holding of others nor the guilt trip you're trying to lay on her. You can disagree with her at your own choosing, but you should respect her independence enough to know when to stop pushing your agenda on her, and thinking that she's naturally going to go along with it without any question. She's too smart for that. Her only problem as I see it is an inability to say no to you. Sure, she can resist, but for how long?"

Laughing slightly, Adam turned his attention to the eggs and bacon. He glanced up to Daelia and smiled gaily. His focus on the fuming Nytalia had completely vanished.

"This is great by the way," he complimented her. You really know how to choose. Do you do any cooking yourself?"

Slowly, Nytalia moved towards him and took the chair next to him. Glancing at the strange human food and the smell permeating from it, she slowly nodded.

"I- I do cook," she replied. "But it's not like I have a human in the house to cook specifically for them."

Adam's amused smile widened.

"Well… if you play your cards right…" was all he had to say to her as he took another mouthful in.

This time it was Daelia's turn colours at the implication that this was not just a onetime thing between them; that there would be a time where this would happen again, only without the company of her sisters watching them. After this morning, she would not mind it in all honesty.

Swallowing his food carefully, Adam looked back up to Nytalia, who was watching him with narrowed eyes.

"For the record, I'm sure you mean well, Nytalia," Adam pressed on, seemingly unaware, or perhaps uncaring of her steadily rising temper. "Family is important, but when you asked me for an opinion, you shouldn't expect one that supports your argument."

Nytalia remained silent.

Daelia remained silent.

Kalui remained silent.

Sessora remained silent.

"_Keelah…"_ Euani spoke bubbly as she drank her wine. "It's like he going out of his way to get murdered by Nytalia, isn't he!?"

The Zorah sisters broke down into a wild laughter at the very intoxicated Euani's observation. The Vael sisters did not. Nytalia held her eyes on Adam and Daelia summoned her courage. She leaned to her left until Nytalia was forced to look directly at her sister instead of the human.

"She'll do no such thing," Daelia warned them all.

Her warning was not ignored.

**…**

* * *

**…**

"Herr Vizeadmiral, Oberfähnrich Von Hoch, reporting for debriefing as directed."

Looking up from his paperwork Vizeadmiral Konrad von Edelmann found a young, utterly battered woman standing at a state of attention.

It was not exactly an uncommon state to see after running the Rostov drill. The battered old turian heavy Cruiser class ship was one of the original seventy five ships the quarian navy gifted to the Raumstreitflotte in its infancy. They were used primarily as training vessels. Horribly out of date for the past decade, it was decided to convert original seventy five into live simulation ships for crews to train on rather than the new Raeder and Hohenzollern-class ships

As for the young woman standing there, Konrad knew of her legacy only too well. He was an acquaintance of her Father from before he married into the Stauffenberg family and was made an official member of the Prussian Junker class by the Manstein family's nomination. He was a good man who emerged from a shady family. So it stood to reason that he passed on his extreme work ethic to his children no matter just what their gender may be.

The problem laid in the fact that he was a Heer man, who instilled Heer values into his children. There was nothing inherently bad about being a grunt, but the navy –ocean and space based alike were a whole different game. He read into her files and they weren't exactly stellar. Charlotte von Hoch suffered from a serious case of blind loyalty. It led to a dependence upon superiors for direction. At least that had been the case until today. Usually it was the operational overseers who conducted the interviews. But for her… he just had to get a first-hand account himself. Today he saw that there was something more to it than being born and bred Heer.

"Take a seat, Oberfähnrich," he finally addressed her as he gestured to the chair across from him. "I apologize for not sending you to medical first. I just felt it best if you came here with your thoughts about the scenario fresh."

The young woman nodded and relaxed from her state of attention. She stepped forward and took a seat as requested, her hands gripping her knees. The only sign that she was human was that she bit her lip nervously.

"The Rostov Operation was a test specifically designed to be not survivable," the Vizeadmiral addressed her as he stood from his seat. "It was modelled after the Bismarck ambush… and perhaps that silly American space series… Whatever the case, it was designed to push the fear of mortality aside."

He watched as Von Hoch furrowed her brow.

"But I did not survive the operation, Herr Admiral," Von Hoch reminded her commandant with a heavily neutral voice. "At least I wouldn't have had I had the chance to complete the operation. I gave up on survival during the last ten minutes."

The Vizeadmiral could not help but smile. It seemed she had really taken to the lesson.

"Yes… yes you didn't get to finish; and I am sorry to have deprived you the opportunity of truly experiencing the death floundering of an 81,000 metric ton ship," he apologized as he leaned against this desk next to the young naval officer trainee. "You see, I have been running that drill for the past eight years, Hoch; and so far I have two schools of applicants. The idealistic ones who never abandoned their posts and the pragmatic realists who dropped everything and sounded a general evacuation the moment the shielding failed and attempt to survive. Both schools of thought are fine, but never at any point have I seen the sort of decision making you made by any of your predecessors sitting in that chair."

The Admiral dropped his hand down on the student's shoulder and stood up properly. He allowed his observation to sink in as he once again took a seat behind his desk. Every word of it was genuine.

"Tell me," he started again. "What was your plan after you put the ship in full rotation?"

Charlotte von Hoch looked up to meet his studious expression. She was flushed by the praise apparently.

"First, the rotation was for twofold reasons," she started, her words nearly catching in her throat. "First it was meant to keep the geth weapons tracking programs from repeatedly targeting vulnerable sections of the plate armour and second, create an artificial gravity which I have seen articles about the North America European Space Agency use for their rocket based spacecraft's since they do not have mass effect field which power the gravitational pull... centrifugal force."

Mobility, first and foremost –this was refreshing to hear. There was no reason for a vessel the size of the Rostov in a near vacuum as space to move like a lumbering beast, especially if there was no real chance of survival.

"Once the nonessential crew were evacuated, Engineering would have cut all power to the rest of the ship and directed it to the bridge, fire control, shielding, doors and internal security in order to keep the geth boarders at bay for as long as possible," she pressed on, finding her confidence as she noticed her commandant was raptly paying attention. "Engineering section would then be evacuated. With most of the crew away, the Rostov would target the most damaged ship of the geth -Cruiser 1v498, I believe and attempted to take it out. If we destroyed it, we would move on to the next until the weapons systems failed. Following which I would signal a general alarm for the bridge. I would stay behind, arm all missiles and self-destruction sequence for a final kick."

She paused.

"At first I thought saving as many lives as possible was the right thing to do. Frankly it would be what my Father would want," she admitted, touching briefly on the man who raised her to be like this. "But on the way over here I had some time to think. I think morale would have been a major reason now in my decision making."

"_Morale_?" Von Edelmann repeated, a note of intrigue flourished. He watched as Von Hoch nodded her head again.

"My bridge crew was terrified sir," she stated as she looked up and met his inquisitive stare. "They did their jobs to the letter and please let the records reflect that, but they were scared. Then it came to me… Survivors of the Rostov would be able to have a chance to tell the tale of those who stayed behind to fight until the very end. Those tales are rallying calls to the men and women thinking about enlisting in the Raumstreitflotte. Everyone needs dead heroes to show them that sacrifice for a greater good is not necessarily a bad thing."

She paused, looking away from the shocked into total silence Vizeadmiral. Huffing, she turned her eyes back up to him again.

"My sacrifice would have been for the good of the Navy," she spoke softly. "That would be all that would matter to me."

Von Edelmann remained somewhat speechless by the Hoch. How exactly did one respond to a girl… no… young, conscientious woman of age 20 coolly and rationally justify her death to him.

"Have you thought about joining the Wehrmacht propaganda wing?" he finally found his voice.

Oberfähnrich Von Hoch emitted a small laugh and she immediately shook her head.

"No Herr Admiral, I'm Navy through and through," she replied as her humoured settled down. "I will be for life, even if I'm not granted a ship to command at the end of this."

"I'm glad to hear that you hold that sort of dedication," Von Edelmann sincerely addressed her. "Now... on your way, Oberfähnrich, that will not be the last time you sit in a command chair. I'll make sure of that. I'll see to it you're put in an operation where you can survive."

The young Von Hoch's face broke into a smile and as the Vizeadmiral stood up and offered his hand, she stood as well to shake it. She took two steps backwards, snapped her arm into a salute and dismissed herself, leaving the Vizeadmiral to himself.

"Did you catch all of that?" the Vizeadmiral called out loud, breaking the silence in the room.

"_I did,"_ a familiar voice returned._ "What are your thoughts?"_

The view screen across from him lit up. Sitting behind his study desk on board the _RN-Vengeance of Rannoch_ was the commander of the Super Dreadnought class vessel Captain Maron'Raan. His hands folded on top of the table. He appeared to be rather pleased by what he had privately witnessed. Retrieving his cigarettes, Vizeadmiral Von Edelmann leaned back into his seat and lit one up.

"She has spirit, I'll grant her that much; but she's Heer material through and through like her Father," the Vizeadmiral said as he exhaled his cigarette. "Her test scores are nothing remarkable, and she strikes me as somewhat dogmatic about military service... Are you sure you want her under your mentorship, Captain Raan? I can give you a whole list of better candidates."

Captain Raan merely smiled knowingly.

"I don't doubt that you can," the quarian returned. "But with all due respect, Herr Admiral, test scores mean very little to me. Not when I'll teach her what she needs to know about ship command. I'm only looking for enthusiasm and diligence. Both traits she seems to have in great quantity. I'll like to meet her as soon as her practical examinations are complete. But yes, this Hoch girl will be my choice."

"Very well," Von Edelmann concurred with the quarian's decision reluctantly. "I'll draw up the activation order and make her an acting Leutnant zur Raum in the next few weeks."

Satisfied that he would get the apprentice ship officer he desired, Captain Raan nodded and closed the link. Silently, the Vizeadmiral wished Raan luck. There was a good reason why the last space fairing Hoch was Hanala'Hoch, and she was a Jarva by birth.

Still, if Charlotte von Hoch could apply half of her zeal into her eventual captaincy, then perhaps the geth would be in trouble when the war erupted.

**…**

* * *

**…**

A flurry of Khelish erupted as soon as Adam bade his farewell to Nytalia, Sessora, Euani and Kalui and as Daelia closed the door behind her.

Poor Daelia seemed to have been utterly frazzled and humiliated. He knew better then to suggest she was ashamed of him. He figured it was more that she wasn't ready to get her personal life involved into her new… whatever this was exactly. _Dating_? _Relationship_? The title wasn't exactly defined just yet. Whatever the case, he could completely understand her trepidation. After all he wasn't exactly being forthright about his own status as a Father.

With Daelia walking a step or two in front of him, her head low as she muttered to herself in Khelish, Adam reached out and took hold of her forearm, making the poor woman jump and turn back to face him with her suddenly shocked eyes.

"Look, I had a great time, Daelia," he assured her. "Despite the bruising… and my vehicle getting trashed… and meeting your… _enthusiastic_ family, everything was great. There is literally nothing you could show me that would spook me off so easily. I just thought I'd get that out in the open before you decide to avoid contacting me for weeks."

"You'd be surprised with what I could spook you off with," Daelia blurted out. Her hand immediately smacked against her mouth.

Adam tilted his head and smiled quizzically at her. If what she was referring to what was his hypothesis about her social anxiety, then that still would not be enough to scare him away so easily. He wasn't exactly new to being around people with her… eccentricity. If anything Adam was coming to admire it. There was a strange, certain honesty in it that was refreshing. Unlike Germans and their blunt ways, Quarians were unnaturally tricky in the words they used. It was not meant to be an insult or sleight against the whole species; they just processed things differently and responded in kind.

"What I mean... is that I'm sorry I did not tell you about them sooner," she elaborated, her hand running through her long ponytail. "They interfere with my life quite often. They mean well, but…"

Daelia trailed off, but Adam knew what she was hinting at: There just had to be a limit to their behaviour. He could certainly appreciate that. It sort of made him feel a little guilty, like perhaps he had spoken out of turn about treating Daelia like a child. Adam wasn't sure if Daelia was paying attention to anything they said (it certainly did not seem like that to him) but they weren't exactly wrong about the importance of being connected to their family. That family was the one constant, especially if your family loved you in the way that Daelia's seemed to love her.

He wasn't a stranger to the matter. Having spent over a decade away from his, having only visited them two times in the past two years since Alexandria died it was one of the few regrets he truly had. He wouldn't change anything about his decision to come to the Reich, but he was allowed that twinge of regret.

"It was none of my business to pry into any information you didn't share last night, or any other encounter we have had, Daelia," Adam reassured her before she could continue her condemnation of her family. "We should all be allowed to have our secrets until we're ready to talk about it, right?"

He watched as Daelia crossed her arms. Her eyebrow arched. It was a rather attractive sight to behold from a woman as awkward as she was.

"And what are _your_ secrets?"

Daelia blinked, blanched and violently blushed. She shook her head In a display of self-flagellation.

"I…I'm sorry," she immediately stuttered out, her hand covering her eyes. "I-I don't know why I said that. It felt right at the moment, but I really should have just watched my words. That happens all the time with me. I-I think I was trying to be clever. Failed. Ba-"

Reaching out once again, Adam gently pried her hand off her eyes.

"Daelia, you don't need to apologize to me for every minor misstep, nor do you have to belittle yourself as a repentance of sorts," he spoke to her carefully.

He held her arm and did not blink until Daelia found it in herself to nod in acknowledgement. Inwardly Adam sighed. There was a total lack of self-confidence in her –at least when it involved him or the people in his life. It meant that he was going to have to do the last thing he ever wanted to do-go to John Hoch for advice. That meant he would be ribbed about it for hours before he actually buckled down to help him.

Letting go of her arm, Adam stepped back from her. He watched amused as Daelia swayed slightly closer to where he had been standing.

"I've got to go now," he reminded her. "I'll be in contact… so answer your calls alright?"

Daelia giggled a small, mortified giggle but nodded nonetheless. Emitting one more smile, Adam stepped back from her and turned to leave. He didn't want to leave. He really wanted to stay. But his obligations to family and work could not be ignored for any longer then he already had. For now they would have to part ways.

"_You have no idea how much what you said to them means to me, do you?"_

Adam froze midway to the elevator as he heard Daelia's small voice call out behind him. Slowly he turned around and looked at her. She stood there, her hands laced together against pelvis, her eyes wide and sweet. Slowly, nervously, she took a step forward, and then another one until she was once again standing with him.

"So many things… so many times, so many years I have tried to say what you said to them within an hour or so of meeting them… my sisters," Daelia breathed as she stopped inches from him. "I… I love them, I really, _really_ do, Adam… but they try to control my life like I'm a child. It was… _good_ to hear you tell them that. Good to have those words in the open."

Adam rubbed the back of his neck.

"I was afraid I overstepped my boundaries," he confessed to her. Violently shaking her head, Daelia reached out and gripped his hands. Adam nearly winced at the near vice grip the small woman possessed in her hands.

"_You didn't…" _she promised him sweetly. "_You really didn't."_

Heartened that she seemed to approve of his forthright words her siblings, Adam pulled his hands out of hers carefully, waved farewell and turned back to leave. In his peripheral vision, he could see Daelia fidgeting uncomfortably as he left.

"It's just! Would you constitute this as a successful date?" Daelia suddenly called out to him once again before Adam reached the elevator. "Everything ended well, and I enjoyed myself. Did you enjoy yourself?"

Amused by her attempts to tie him down in conversations to prolong their time together, Adam turned back to face her.

"I did enjoy myself," he confirmed for her.

Nodding, Daelia's hands rubbed together. Once again she stepped down the hallway to join him. Once again she stopped only inches from him.

"It's just that… after a successful date, the two parties…" she started again, her tone quivering. "You know… -_k-kiss_."

It was Adam's turn to be dumbfounded. He had not expected, nor anticipated that Daelia was interested in those sorts of activities so soon. Well, he certainly wasn't about to deny her that. Exhaling unsteadily, he reached out and grazed her arm. He watched her eyes move to follow the tracing of his fingers.

"Would you like a kiss, Daelia?" he asked her.

Daelia's lips squeezed together for a moment.

"Yes…well, I would at least like to try," she nervously admitted.

Taking a step forward, Adam closed what little space between them existed. His hands wrapped around her waist. Daelia twitched slightly and swallowed roughly. Slowly her own hands reached up and touched his back. She glanced at his lips for a moment and begun to bring them closer to his. Adam remained still. He would allow her to make the move to touch his lips. But Christ was the wait unbearable…

Daelia's eyes suddenly bulged as she gasped. She pulled her head back and broke herself out of Adam's hands. Her head shaking as she looked self-loathingly at her own feet. Adam remained silently disappointed. Just like the old cliché of being tossed suddenly into a cold shower.

"I'm so, so sorry, Adam! It's too much, _way_ too much too soon!" Daelia blurted out to him, her face horrified. "I want to kiss you, I _really_ do… it's just such a personal thing to do. I know that first dates usually end in small displays of physical contact, but we how much do we really know about each other. I think it's too soo-"

Rolling his eyes, Adam leaned in towards the babbling Daelia and pressed his lips to her cheek and pulled back. She stood there, unmoving, numb and suddenly quiet as the grave. Adam could not help but grin at her.

"Here's the compromise instead, I wasn't going to leave without some sort of a kiss when you suggested it," he said, breaking her from her shocked state, "I'll see you soon, okay… just nod your head for yes."

As Daelia nodded her head as he suggested, Adam chuckled and stepped backwards into the waiting elevator. His eyes never leaving hers until the doors closed. As he pressed the button to the ground level, he smacked his head twice against the door as it made its descent.

_Goddamnit, Daelia._

**…**

* * *

**…**

**Goddamnit indeed.**

**Sorry this took so long (Insert standard excuse and promise to do better here)**

**This marks the final major character introductions to the first part of Uplifted: Integration –Constanze von Hoch nee Stauffenberg, Joachim-Claus von Hoch and Charlotte von Hoch, who will be the eyes into the army and navy of the geth-quarian-human war  
**

**Next up: John Hoch takes centre stage.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	8. Dirty Laundry

**Back to it.**

**…**

* * *

**…**

**Chapter Eight: The Dirty Laundry of the Inscrutable John Hoch**

**...**

Sipping on a tall glass of gin and tonic, his earbuds blaring _Wham!_ directly into his brain, John Hoch bobbed his up and down to the beat of the English pop music, keeping his eyes clenched as he let the buzzing of cocaine and alcohol flow through his synapses.

Here he was… back on the charity scene.

Although he was apparently adored in the eyes of the Reich's philanthropic societies for his charities, both what he donated and worked for, John could not care less for them. They were a time waster that John made assurances to people he cared for that he would continue to do. He supposed it all amounted to good publicity for him, so at least he had that going for him.

All he wanted right now was to leave the country. Go somewhere warm… perhaps the Mandate. It had been some time since he ripped through the Saharan dunes on mass accelerator bikes… And it had been some time since he tasted quarian…

The high pitch tones of George Michaels singing like Andrew Ridgeley was stepping on his testicles was abruptly cut off. John opened his eyes and found one of the other occupants of the limousine staring back at him sternly was his Father, the great Joachim Hoch. Decked out in a twenty thousand dollar tuxedo which he absolutely abhorred wearing, he was in a state of surly annoyance with his boy for dragging both him and his wife along.

"I don't get why I need to be involved in this charity affair," he grumbled to his son. "Do I somehow give off the impression I care about starving Asiatic children? I hardly care for my own children. What chance do they have?"

As John turned off his omni-tool, he glanced up to raise his eyebrow at his father, John Hoch could not possibly be less surprised by his Father's statement. He glanced over to the love of Joachim's life, Hanala. Mother and watched as the woman rolled her eyes and collected Joachim's remaining organic hand into hers.

"That sure is a lot of tough talk from an old sappy man like you, Dad," John teased his old man gaily. "How many more Yad Vashem invitations are you going to reject?"

Father glared at John with as much menace as an old lion like him could produce. Discussing the affairs that involved him and the Jews was still a touchy subject almost forty years after Jews started approaching him to give thanks to him and his activities before and during the civil war. It was a subject he rarely broached even now in his twilight years… like it was something to be ashamed of or something.

If John was in his place, he would be getting Spielberg shooting sob stories about his trials and tribulations liberating the camps. But he supposed his Father was just a better man then he. Modesty was apparently an attractive quality.

"It's about impressions," Mother tried to explain to her grumpy husband, her hand patting his hand. "The family has to be out in the limelight supporting charities, garnering recognition. Even at our age we have to do our part…"

John clapped his hands together brightly at Mother's acknowledgement of the work that was required to keep the Hoch name from returning back to the mud and blood it was washed in.

"Nice to see one of you interested in it!" he exclaimed out loud.

Smiling slightly to her son, she looked back to Father.

"It's also for Jochen's benefit as well, Joachim," she tacked on without blinking, without glancing back to John's confused expression. "It's a reminder just how far he dragged this family up from the stigma out name produces."

John's smile faltered as he watched his Father finally smile and nod, only accepting what she was saying to him because it meant aiding _Jochen._ John turned away and gulped his entire drink down. Wishing he could smoke in the presence of his feeble parents, John exhaled and poured himself yet another gin and tonic, this time not cut with the pesky tonic. This was typical, he supposed.

He wondered out loud if his parents even realized that _Hands Across Asia_ was his own charity. He might not have enjoyed what he was doing, but at least he was doing it. Jochen was head first into the Prussian military elite society. He didn't have_ time _for anything else. He looked good in his uniform, and could say the right conciliatory things, but he was every bit the Junker that boy dreamed to become.

"…_And afterwards we can…" _

Inwardly John groaned and turned off his brain as the conversation between the long married couple turned lewd in spite of their eldest son sitting across from them. Sometime he just hated that goddamn goody-good Adam Ackerson. He did his job too well and now he was actively encouraging a sex life for the Octogenarians as a part of a healthy lifestyle.

He never should have helped him stumble into a relationship with that quarian basket case. They had been dating for two or three weeks now and he had yet to get any details from Adam. Apparently Adam's idea of going slow was sticking his cock in ice so that he would never have the urge to use it ever again. As far as he knew the subject of him being Father hadn't even been approached yet.

Boy… that was going to be a real shocker for the Vael girl. How Adam could go from chasing and catching the heart of the pinnacle of a woman such as Alexandria McKellan, to _her_ of all people was still a matter of debate for him.

Without so much as a warning, the limo screeched to a sudden halt as several ugly cars and vans past by them and stopped in front of the vehicle. John groaned as the sound of sirens and the lights. Now what was the problem?!

"What the _hell_ is this?" Father grumbled as he looked out the window at the flashing lights blaring just outside.

"_**All occupants of this vehicle are to get out with your hands on your heads!"**_

John frowned to himself. Well… this was new.

As Mother started to push herself towards the door in order to challenge the police, John reached out and took her hand from the handle. He smiled reassuringly at her. She did not need to get outraged on his behalf. He was perfectly capable of doing so without his Mother as back up.

Leaning forward to kiss her cheek, John opened the door himself and stepped out of the vehicle. His hands held out in front of his chest as he took in the sight of half a dozen uniformed Bundespolizei and four plains clothed officers –detectives most likely, point their service pistols at him as though he was a criminal of some sort.

Behind him both Father and Mother stepped out of the vehicle. Unlike him neither of them held their hands up. Defiant old farts as always, they decided it was better to tempt fate then to submit to any sort of authority, no matter how well armed they were. Next out climbed Isabella and Jürgen. Both of them were holding their own service weapons over their heads briefly before dropping them onto the pavement in front of the cops.

As soon as his private security voluntarily disarmed themselves for the cops, John extended his arms out diplomatically.

"I see no reason why this is happening!" John cried out to them brightly. "My men are legally licensed to carry concealed weapons and surely you're not here to arrest a couple of war heroes!"

The Bavarian glared sharply at Joachim for a moment before he wavered slightly as his eyes fell on two of the last surviving saviours of the German Reich. For a moment John thought he saw the man's lip tremble as Mother and Father stared right back at him. He was standing before legends and that fact just seemed to finally cross into his thoughts.

The Detective lowered his pistol and exhaled, he glanced to his partners and underlings, who lowered their weapons as well.

"No you're right," the cop agreed with him. He turned to Father and added "Herr Generalfeldmarschall, Admiral you are free to step back, as well as the driver and your guard."

The detective turned his service pistol and raised it directly at John.

"We're here to take you Reinhardt Hoch into custody on suspicion of knowledge of the attack on Spittelmarkt Station... _**GET YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD, NOW!**_" the Detective roared out at him.

Feigning shock at the behaviour, John raised his hands over his head and watched in silence as the detectives and police stepped forward, their weapons still drawn on him. The leader, some Bavarian sounding bastard took a set of handcuffs off one of his uniformed men and clamped them tightly around John's wrist, then pulled his machine arm back behind his back next and clamped the artificial wrist as well.

John did not blink, nor react. He turned to his parents and offered them both a reassuring smile. Naturally Mother smiled right back, as her hand reached out to graze her son's cheek, Father did not. He remained silent as he judged his son carefully as though it was 1978 all over again…

Smiling tightly still, John turned to Isabella Ochoa, who appeared rather disturbed by what was unfolding in front of her.

"Don't worry about me, just get my attorney on standby, get my parents to the Gala and get your asses to me pronto," he ordered in English as the Detective pulled him backwards. Ochoa nodded gravely and activated her omni-tool.

Much to his surprise, the Detective gave one serious pull and twisted the industrialist around 180 and walked towards the back of a flashing, siren blaring police van. Same ones used for rioters. John frowned; he thought that he had at least earned the dignity of a vomit smelling Police car backseat. The officer opened the back door and launched John face first into the back of the vehicle.

Laughing roughly, John rolled onto his back and stared casually at the cop.

"Well this was a surprising turn of events. From a gala to jail?" the Industrialist taunted his arresting officer merrily. "Don't worry officer, once I take your job and all your income for the events of today, I'll put the compensation towards a charity. Any in particular you wish me to patronage? I'm open to suggestions!"

The Detective responded with a note of disgust as he slammed the police van door behind him.

**…**

* * *

**…**

John exhaled as his head rolled side to side to take in the familiar nature of the grey interrogation room he was sitting in.

This was hardly a first time experience for the billionaire going on trillionaire sometime in the next decade if he was being completely honest. Of course the last time he was sitting in an interrogation chamber like this had been a few weeks after he had gotten back from his eight year foray into the deepest pits of human constructed hell; and even then that wasn't the first time. How to survive an interrogation was one of the first things he learned from Otto Skorzeny and his underling/friend Adrian von Fölkersam.

Of course, they trained him to be grabbed by despot communist trash. This was the Reich and he was easily one of the single most untouchable individual which the Reich had produced since Ferdinand Porsche or the boys at IG Farben. The key here was a technique that he had long been working on: audacious misdirection.

In the room across from him were the four detectives who brought him in at gunpoint. He was sure that they at some point introduced themselves and read him his right, but he had more or less tuned them out. He checked his watch and crossed one leg over the other. These public serfs… servants, had another 45 minutes until all hell broke loose on their investigation. Forty five minutes was a cake walk.

His attention only perked when the door opened and a uniformed officer stepped in. He was perhaps a little older then John was. From the way the group stiffened up at the sight of him it did not exactly take a master of deduction to figure out that the man setting a datapad down and sitting across from him was the in charge of this operation.

The only acknowledgement John gave was his hand reaction into his jacket to get his cigarettes. He did not even bother to ask for permission. He would not give them the satisfaction.

"My name is Kurt Carstens, lead investigator into the terrorist attack on Spittelmarkt station," the older police officer addressed John in a thick Munich accent. "I want to start by apologizing for the overblown effort to bring you in, Herr Hoch. We could have approached in a more subtle way. I'm afraid that our new blood decided it was time to take the gloves off so to speak."

As Carstens glanced sharply sideways at his underlings, notably at the tall arresting officer who was standing directly behind him, the industrialist merely inhaled his cigarette. John remained perfectly silent as stared at the lead investigator impassively. He was not buying this tired old good cop routine. At least the rage and indignation of the younger detectives was interesting to witness. It was just as unproductive as this approach was, but interesting nonetheless.

"Do you know why you are here, Herr Hoch?" Carstens inquired again, prodding his datapad as he held his eyes on Hoch.

Glancing at each member of Carstens' team, a slow, mocking smile spread across his mouth. Leaning forward, John ashed his cigarette onto Carstens' datapad and shrugged mildly; almost as though he was an innocent child who being reprimanded.

"I could honestly not care less why I'm here," John answered the question in his sly English. "I haven't done anything wrong. At this point you lot are digging your own graves. Why should I stop you?"

"_Digging our own graves?_" the female called out from the corner repeating his words back to him. "We're not the trash like you. Hiding your shame in plain sight and deluding yourself into think you got away with it all these years. You, who consorted with war criminals, your active and enthusiastic involvement in an eight year stint with a terrorist group…"

The cop woman snorted. She appeared to be utterly repulsed by him.

"Oh, we know all about you, Reinhardt Hoch," she nasally shot out. "We know what you really are…"

John arched his eyebrows at the chastising cop who clearly wanted to be as tough as the boys she was surrounded by.

"You do?" he nearly gasped at her. "Well that may be the case, but from where I sit, it seems you have overlooked something about me. Would you care to know what I know? Or would you rather stick to what your files say about me?"

He allowed them a moment of silence to glance at each other.

"See this suit?" John said, gesturing to his charcoal three piece suit. "I literally walked into the main headquarters of Hugo Boss, interrupted a board meeting and told them I wanted a suit. You make… what, 60k a year? This suit is a year and a half salary… bought this it on a whim the other day. I'll probably only wear it once… maybe twice before it goes into a closet and is forgotten about-"

"-I imagine you like Hugo Boss quite a bit," one of the detectives called out behind his boss. "Not surprising that it runs in the family -the taste in tailor, I mean."

John was the first one to bellow out a loud and wild laugh at the remark. It served well in diminishing the remark's power to humiliate the Industrialist.

"Oh! You made a Nazi joke! Holy _shit_ that was hilarious!" John exclaimed as though he was speaking to a pack of mouth breathing retards… which he supposed he had been doing. "That could have been original even if you said that about fifty five years ago! My, my, my, you must be the clever one right? Wow!"

Sniffing as he ignored the bump of coke he was itching for, John tilted his head.

"This watch?" he remarked with a sly smile returning, his finger gesturing to it violently. "Customized Rolex, 275k and change, bought it on a whim; more than any one of your homes I suspect."

Taking it off his wrist, John slammed it hard against the edge of the table until the delicate time piece shattered into pieces before the suddenly shocked officers. John threw the last of the watch at the wall behind him, chuckled mildly and smiled up at the four detectives watching him. He leaned backwards into the hard steel chair and slicked back his hair.

"I have seven dozen properties and facilities around the planet, on Luna, on Mars, on Deimos, Phobos, on Titan, around Alpha Proxima and Centauri," he started listing off, his words livid. "I employ 61,000 of the brightest men and women across the world spread out over two dozen fields of scientific and technological research and a support staff of 96,000, a private security force more numerous than the entire Belgian Army, I have eight world renown charities, one of which you so rudely interrupted today, rather than being men… and women and scheduling **A **_**GODDAMN**_** MEETING**!"

His hands flew down in fists to the table, but millimetres from hitting the surface, he froze his hands and tapped the table lightly. He exploded into laughter yet again and laced his hands instead.

To the cops this must have been all rather confusing, but this was all just a game to him. It might have been serious if he was a wage slave or a cop, but he was so far past their level at this point it not even funny. He didn't care if they were impressed by it or not - and they certainly did not seem to be impressed. All of this was to him was a delay tactic... running down the clock.

"You see I'm telling you this for good reason," John continued, his voice leveling out as he returned back into a state of collected calm. "You seemed to have failed to comprehend our positions, Herr Detectives; I expect the best, because I can afford the best. And unfortunately for you and your bosses who permitted this; that fact extends to my legal counsel as well. My lawyer isn't coming to protect me from a group of envious, underpaid civil servants who just watched a man smash three years' worth of their salary right in front of their eyes on a fucking whim. No, you see I'm trying to protect you all from her. Saba'Hautari is going to walk through those doors in twenty to thirty minutes and the moment she sees you harassing me without probable cause, she's going to make it her personal mission to destroy your lives. None of you will be able to apply for a position more noble then a ditch digger…"

John took a deep breath. Now he was just coming off a manic lunatic. Perfect. He paused and eyed up the female investigator, who had crossed her arms and stared at him.

"Or with your pretty face… take up a job in the world's _oldest_ profession," he amended slyly.

That was all it took. An interference that the lone woman in the room was a whore had been enough for a flurry of shouting from every man but Carstens, who rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance, and the man behind him tearing around the table to grab John by the scruff of his jacket. He looked like he wanted nothing better than to savage him right where he sat.

Well… if that was what he wanted; who was John to stop him?

"Come on, _do_ it," John breathed his invitation at the man. "Make it look _goooood_."

"Back down Detective Kohl," Carstens chastised the one called Kohl sharply. "Detective Neubauer can handle immature comments meant to antagonize all of us into acting against him in a matter that will only work to his favour, right Neubauer?"

Neubauer did not speak; she instead curtly nodded to her supervisor and glowered at John as he winked at her. Kohl stepped back from the Industrialist, his hand running through his hair in annoyance at that the detainee had cracked through his armour rather than the other way around. He was just the tough guy cliché that simply could not impress John in the slightest unless he pulled a knife and started hacking off his finger nails.

As Carstens turned his glare from Kohl to John, he activated the view screen that doubled as interrogation glass.

"I get your frustration with the situation. But please… would you be willing to at least watch some surveillance footage?" he requested, his voice remaining as neutral as it possibly could. "This is as much a concern to you as it is to the country. I think that you can do a whole lot of good for us all with just a bit of cooperation."

Staring wearily at the detective, John waved his hand and leaned backwards into his seat. The video feed lit up. On it was several custodial staff having lunch together in the hallway. John glanced up to Kurt, who gestured him to continue watching.

As he turned back, he watched in silence as a group of black clad men and a woman stormed them; two of them armed with combat knives. The screaming on the surveillance footage echoed throughout the interrogation room as the knives slashed through the janitors with sickening cruelty with every swing of the blade.

The attacker was one of the men and the lone women. The others stood back and simply watched them. There were no killing blows by either of the attackers. They were stabbing these men solely to instill maximum amount of terror in their dying moments. Giving one of the dead men a kick square in the jaw as though it was one final insult, the knife wielding male stood up, dropped his knife and took a Balaclava from the woman.

The two of them seemed rather… similar. They were similar height, brunettes, dark eyes and twisted jeers on their mouths.

In all honesty, John could not exactly tell for certain whether they were amateurs or not. They should have been in full gear the moment they infiltrated the station. Best case scenario that had been the case –these people were just a couple of lunatics trying to cause chaos.

The worst case scenario was the far more terrifying prospect for him to envision –that the Balaclava's were just for show; just there to be a faceless terror to the stupid and panicked civilians, and that they were not afraid to reveal their identity to anyone, least of all the police. This was a mark of a new phase in German history; direct terrorism to the Greater German Reich not seen since the cleanup of the Nazi regime between mid-1943 to the early fifties.

Stepping over the bodies, the other members of the hit squad handed the pair Belgian built FNC rifles. From behind his mask, the man had the audacity to smile at the woman, who was slamming a magazine into her rifle.

_"Blood and Tears, Sister,"_ the male addressed the woman next to him.

For the first time since the footage started, John blinked at the words. They were familiar words… far too familiar for his liking.

The brutal looking woman, whom he referred to as 'sister' nodded gravely as she pulled on her own Balaclava and pulled back the hammer of her assault rifle.

_"Blood and Tears, Brother,"_ she concurred.

The male turned from his sibling and kicked the custodial doors wide open and together the siblings stepped out through the door and past the scope of the camera. The only thing the camera caught was the flashes from the rifles, the automatic fire being unloaded onto the civilians and the sudden shrieking of the hundreds of panicked people as the squad stepped out onto the platform.

Lead Investigator Carstens turned off the feed and turned to stare at John, who was immersed in a thick cloud of smoke left by the cigarette he hadn't been smoking. Realizing much of his cigarette had burned away, John shook his head, took one last drag and dabbed it out on the steel table. He remained in perfect silence as he felt the eyes on the room look to him as though he had their answers already.

He didn't have answers… he just had a feeling, a disgusting feeling that was too terrible to true. Somewhere, somehow, he just knew exactly who these freaks belonged to…

"All I see is the commencement of a massacre," John addressed the room finally, his voice remaining as steady as possible. "Despite my sympathies to the victims of this heinous crime, I have very little personal investment in."

For the first time it seemed as though John got under Carstens' skin. It was purely incidental, caused by his attempt at lack of empathy for the scores killed on the footage. Silently John wrapped his hands together and laid them onto the table.

"So that phrase does not ring a bell… perhaps from your youth?" the Investigator inquired. "...and those faces do not look even slightly similar to you?"

Oh yes… For John the words '_blood and tears'_ were very familiar to the ones that were drilled into his head during his recruitment and training. The faces? The woman perhaps did not look too familiar, but the hulking male with beady eyes, high cheekbones and deranged air to him was much more familiar to him. Genetics were a hard thing to overlook for him.

"You were what, 18, 19, when you signed on with Paladin Group?" Carstens' prodded him carefully, finally spelling out his implications. "Those ones you probably do not recognize, but surely you know their Father, Hansjörg_… _or better yet, their Grandfather, Ernst Kaltenbrunner…"

Oh yes… John had a very clear memory of Ernst Kaltenbrunner all right. Hansjörg, a rather intelligent man in his own right decided to emulate his Father, but it was the original Kaltenbrunner that still spooked the life out of him; and the man had been dead for over twenty years.

John felt his stomach turn at the mere confirmation that these two fanatical shits were indeed descendants of that monstrous fucker Ernst Kaltenbrunner. This was all wrong, a bad joke that should never have existed in the first place. He was assured this would never arise; he was _promised_ this could never happen. They were supposed to have vanished!

"I have no idea what you are speaking about," John spoke, shuffling slightly in his chair. "I was on an extended cross-geographical vacation between 1970 and 1978. That is what the official record has declared."

Carstens' mouth formed into a smile as he dropped a genuine paper folder onto the table. John's mouth twitched. This was not the first time he saw the file. The Abwehr grabbed him within two weeks of returning home and the lead interrogator dropped the exact same file in front of him as well.

"Yes it does," he concurred with John. "But let's not play dumb anymore, Herr Hoch. It didn't take much on my part to dig a little deeper to find your name linked to 8 years of worldwide terrorism in the name of the Fascist Union of Nations and other former enemy states. Your involvement in massacres in Latin America and Southeast Asia are particularly well noted. Havana, Hue, Caracas the list goes on and on…"

For a moment, John pursed his lips together and watched in silence as Carstens listed off every activity he had been involved with in his near decade stint in Paladin Group. Naturally he did not seem to realize that quite a few of those operations were sanctioned by the government he was serving. It was a good part of the reason why he was still free today. He put his hands into the mud and defended Reich interests… it was just that he was better paid then the average soldier…

"Oh the follies of a carefree youth... Well you did it, you caught me!" John exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. "Better throw me in jail and ship me off before a war crimes tribunal- oh wait… I got that pardon from Kaiser Ferdinand's own hand..."

The mere mention that the Kaiser himself cleared his name long before Daedalus Foundation exploded into the world made the cops wilt. John sighed and crossed on leg over the other.

"Well I'm really sorry to drag you back to reality so abruptly…" he sighed as he twiddled his thumbs idly. "I suppose that since you went to all this work, I can at least offer up a few notes for you as a consolation prize… That is if you are willing to go before media admitting that there was a mistake on your part. Your lot did embarrass me quite a bit you know. Had one of the Bin Laden's -Osama I think, in line to become a contributor to _Hand Across Asia_. Lot of publicity landing a construction and oil family, you know. The last thing I need is some oversensitive Saudi losing his shit and declaring Jihad on me!"

Carstens turned away from John and glanced at his underlings. John arched his brow as he glanced around the room idly.

"Fine," he heard Carstens say. "I want to know everything there is to know about the Kaltenbrunner's."

John nodded and shrugged slightly.

"I'm afraid I can't help you quite as much as you think that I can," John spoke as he ceased the mindless finger motions and laid his hands flat on the table. "All I know is about the previous two generations. These ones were just babies when I may or may not have been leaving what remained of Paladin Group. In fact, these ones… they shouldn't even be alive –but that's just between us, right?"

The Investigator blinked at the statement.

"What are you saying?" Carstens asked John, his face twisted up into one of confusion. "Why _shouldn't_ they be alive?"

John remained perfectly silent once again. He watched as the tension built from the gathering of detectives hanging off his every word. He reached over the table and poured a glass of water for himself and took a sip before he so much as offered an explanation.

"Paladin Group had two great follies in its existence," he began slowly, each word spoken deliberately. "First, it relied on government contracts to stay afloat –which meant it had to always be out there, making a name for itself as the people you went to when you needed your dirty work done. So when the work dried up, it had to stimulate the world back into a controllable chaos. Vietnam, Cambodia, Cuba and most infamously Mexico… eventually it got caught."

John fell silent as he idly tapped his glass of water. He glanced back up to the watching audience.

"Second, Paladin was founded on a dangerous lie," he pressed on. "The truth got out to the lie's victim –Skorzeny himself… that Ernst Kaltenbrunner murdered his wife and nearly murdered his child… that he framed it to appear as though to be the work of Reinhard Heydrich. Heydrich's death and Himmler's imprisonment and hanging secured his position as head of the SS, and with Otto Skorzeny without much of a purpose left in peace; he took his child and out of loyalty for saving her life, followed Kaltenbrunner to Spain."

Speaking about Ernst Kaltenbrunner brought up the twinge of guilt he felt every so often. Kaltenbrunner had been the ultimate tormentor of his parents. He had so many people they loved killed. The action of willingly serving Kaltenbrunner's mad campaign against all the threats he saw had permanently damaged his relationship with much of his family; His Mother, his Father, Saleb, Jochen, probably the Twins and even Galina… none of them trusted him ever again. That was the price had to pay.

"At some point in 1978, someone figured it all out and told Skorzeny," he spoke again. "Why do you think the secrecy surrounding Paladin Group just sort of collapsed in a matter of weeks? The organization had spent decades prepared to fight off and evade the world powers in a losing, but extraordinarily bloody war. It took someone high up to do the damage that caused the high command chaos and Skorzeny was ultimately the only one capable of doing that.

He paused for a moment. He supposed name dropping _her_ wouldn't hurt too much…

"Otto's daughter, Waltraut was told about the betrayal. She escaped as well and likely decided to honour her mother and father's legacies but hunting down and eradicating the Kaltenbrunner line in all its forms. How these two escaped boggles my mind. I did not know her particularly well, but the extent of her mercy did not reach children as I was told…"

More like saw. Unlike her Father, Waltraut wasn't exactly inclined to deal in small mercies to others like her old man had been. There was a reason why once upon a time Ernst Kaltenbrunner was someone she considered an uncle figure to her. Perhaps that was the reason for her mercy. She had rejected everything the man had taught her shortly after the discovery of his long standing treachery.

Well that was fine and all, but the Kaltenbrunner family should have been the final time she committed such acts. They were a disease which mercy killings would have been a favour to them…

"Do you believe her failure to kill Greta and Peter Kaltenbrunner has led to these events?"

John looked up to the source of the question. It was the woman Neubauer. John shook his head curtly. Obviously he felt the opposite, but he was not about to reveal that so soon.

"No… you have to understand something about the Kaltenbrunner blood –it's bad," John refuted with a mild sigh. "Who knows, they might have had a chance at normalcy if the Wehrmacht did the right thing in 1943 and killed Ernst out right and allowed Elisabeth and Gisela, but Kaltenbrunner survived and lived another thirty five years and influenced two generations to adhere to his thinking. That's why they can wander into an underground station and shoot up a bunch of women and babies like they did."

A dark chuckle escaped his lips.

"The worse part is that they both are likely parents themselves by now," he hypothesized, his horrified smile and horrifying words shocking the detectives. "Kaltenbrunner was pretty big on concept of having large families young. Both likely have three or four kids a piece. More baby Kaltenbrunner's to terrorize the planet… perhaps even the galaxy when we enter the fold… And here's the kicker; these two are from just from one of Ernst Kaltenbrunner's five blood children!"

John chuckle turned into a flat out giggle. He could not help himself. For John he had two reactions he could display: laughter or losing his temper, and now was not the time or place to explode in front of a bunch of public servants.

"My apologies for this laughter, but this just keeps getting more and more hilarious to me," John finally got out in-between his giggles. "We are on a precipice of a shit storm not seen since 1943, and no one saw it coming…"

_Not even him…_

The door of the interrogation room slammed open before the conversation could be expanded upon. Although he no longer had a watch to check, it seemed like it was on cue. Standing in the door frame was the frightening visage of legal hell standing there in quarian form. Saba'Hautari. She did not so much as utter a word to the detectives for them to know that their time was up and that John was free to go.

John stood up from his seat and arched his back as he yawned out loud. He pushed by the detectives and stood next to Saba, who reached out and gripped onto her client's arm protectively.

"And so ends our session," he addressed the officers. "I hope it was illuminating one. I suspect we'll be in contact?"

"Unlikely," Saba'Hautari growled directly at the cops as she placed her between him and them. "If any of these officers approach my client, I'll be filing harassment lawsuits and injunctions against the entirety of the Bundespolizei so harsh, they'll be lucky to keep their positions."

"See what I mean?" John tacked on, looking over Saba's shoulder to give them a grin. "It's an unfortunate side effect of only wanting the best."

John didn't even bother to wait for the answer. He stepped out of the interrogation room, slamming the door behind him. It took all his effort and patience not to explode inside the precinct. It was not being arrested which bothered the industrialist, it just how close they stumbled into his world.

Now he had other matter to deal with then noisy Federal Police thinking they could coerce the truth out of him. John had a skull to bash in…

**…**

* * *

**…**

Today certainly hadn't been something he had been expecting. If there was one thing he learned years ago, it was to deal with the unexpected. Still… it was not every day that the dead came back to life and waged war on the living.

Watching in seething silence as the Dreadnought _RSF-Tirpitz_ hung in low orbit over Kiel as he ascended the to the top floor of _Hochturm – _the 147 storey tall building he had dedicated to his parents, which neither of them visited beyond opening. He supposed it did not matter. He had it converted into free housing for Daedalus Foundation employees living in Kiel and the rest of Schleswig-Holstein. It was small perks such as this that bought loyalty from the workers, loyalty bought morale and morale got him results. _Hochturm_ cost him 2.8 billion Reichsmarks and it paid for itself in less than 2 years. Not bad at all.

John maintained an uncomfortable silence with Isabella Ochoa and Jürgen Reubke steps behind him. He could see their reflections through the glass elevator walls. Neither of them looked to be in a cheerful mood. Perhaps that was not so much a surprise coming from Reubke, but Ochoa looked perturbed by the events of today. It was her first exposure to the amount of hatred and envy John's enemies had held for him. Usually the malice for the Hoch name had a veneer of niceties hiding it. Today that subtly had been stripped away for the relative newcomer to the Reich and she got to witness the true extent of gratitude the common German had for the family that more or less saved their asses from being Soviet rape bait and a punching bag to the rest of the world.

From behind him, he heard Isabella clear her throat. Exhaling sharply, John pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Not now Isabella," John hissed at her, cutting her off. "I got murder on the mind and victims to list out."

John felt Isabella's hand reach out and grab him by his shoulder. It was a daring move on her part if he had considered her as anything less than a friend. She stepped forward and pulled his shoulder until he turned around to look her in the eye. Next to her, Jürgen Reubke turned away as though to give them privacy. Isabella could take a few pointers from him. He knew when it was best to leave him the fuck alone.

"John, you have every right to feel humiliated, but plotting murder of half a dozen cops?" she spoke gently to him, "well… it isn't constructive."

Looking at Isabella for a long moment, John remained silent as he felt the elevator come to a halt. He pushed by her and stepped through the doorway. It was not cops whom he was planning to murder. Sure, they might have been self-righteous wage slaves, but that was their jobs and he had to respect that audacity to pick him of all people up for questioning. No… he had bigger… dirtier fish he had to fry…

John trailed off his thoughts of vengeance as the three found themselves staring at a most peculiar scene. There was supposed to be a fifteen man security patrolling the halls leading to his suite. They were there, but each member of the team on the ground, beaten unconscious and tied up. Jürgen and Isabella glanced at each other, both of them drew out their G97 RAR rifles, the tight compact boxes expanded into the third generation German built mass accelerator technology compacted into a rifle.

Bending over as Isabella and Jürgen stepped out in front of him; John touched the pulmonary artery of the nearest guard. There was no weapons discharge, no sign serious resistance to whoever did this. This was a professional grade attack.

"Call for EMS… _our_ EMS," John quickly amended. "This stays in-house."

John straightened himself back up and as Isabella called into the Daedalus Foundation Medical Clinic situated 112 stories below them, he pulled Jürgen's sidearm out of his holster and activated the heavy pistol. He had an idea what had happened, and if that had been the case then the last thing he wanted to be was unarmed.

As John held the handgun to his side, he stepped forward; his moments mimicked by his security until he turned the corner, past by several more unconscious and zap strapped guards.

Standing there at the door to his condo was a young, petite, fully armoured young woman staring hard at the three approaching her. A grim smirk crossed her face as the young woman who apparently beaten his private security to a pulp stepped backwards into John's apartment. She did not make a single remark to them; all she did instead was raise her index finger and gestured for them to follow her lead inside.

Glancing wearily at Isabella, then to Jürgen, John stepped forward and followed the young woman into his penthouse, his borrowed weapon held limply at his side as he stepped through the door. He knew what this was. He knew exactly what this was. This was meant to put the fear of God back into the woman who perpetrated.

And there she sat in front of him, cross legged on his couch with a warm inviting, shark-like grin on mouth. It was the exact same look she had inherited from her Father. He had asked for a meeting with her, but not like this.

Go figure she would do this.

"I heard you were picked up by the Bundespolizei," the woman spoke to him, her words dripping in a sweet poison. "I just thought I would drop by and check up on my former running buddy."

John tilted his head slightly and raised his hands up with a smile of his own.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my old friend Waltraut Skorzeny," John greeted her enthusiastically. "You know I was just having a rather lengthy conversation about you! Jesus… you got old. I keep hearing that women age like milk, but this is ridiculous!"

All traces of humour vanished off Waltraut's goons face. Her expression reformed into livid rage. Waltraut, on the other hand, held up her mask like the professional liar her Father taught her to be. In all fairness to Waltraut, she didn't look _too_ bad. Silver streaked her dark hair and her skin held a few lines not caused by warfare, but all in all she looked pretty good for a woman on the cusp of sixty. Given half a chance he would likely still proposition her…

John shook any and all sexual thoughts of the vile Skorzeny woman out of his head. He was _supposed_ to be pissed at the woman! Sneering at Waltraut, John turned away from her and glanced for a moment to both Jürgen and Isabella. It was a silent order to stand down, but not to relax. All of this could go very wrong before long.

He turned back and watched as Waltraut crossed on leg over the other. The last time he saw her in the flesh she was wearing her Father's ratty Nazi-era gear. Now she was dressed in the finest Italian tailored dress money could buy. It seemed as though she had been rather busy these past 20 years.

"Nothing too indicting, I hope," she sighed as she checked her nails casually.

John chuckled and shook his head as he took two steps forward.

"I wouldn't want our partnership come crashing down on our heads... At least not until I get out of the way. At this point I could care less if you burn alive… Just like your old man when the quarian navy dropped cold plasma discharge on him. Christ you know you're hated when they'd be willing to do that to a man, hey?"

"You'll do well to show Miss Skorzeny a modicum of respect!" The girl behind Skorzeny hissed in an attempt to spare the usually unflappable Waltraut's feelings from John's prodding taunts.

In response to her concerns, John raised his borrowed pistol and trained it at Waltraut's goon. Isabella and Jürgen did the same.

"And you'd do well to get on your knees and sucking my cock!" John retorted with a rolling growl. He turned from the girl to Waltraut and added. "Either tell the pretty face to give me her number or tell her to shut the _fuck _up. I don't care which choice, just do it!"

John watched in glee as his words finally brought a reaction of horror and disgust to Waltraut's face, as well as the outrage from the young cunt who thought it best to correct him in his own home. Emitting a slight chuckle, John lowered the pistol and raised his hand to Ochoa and Reubke to follow suit.

As Waltraut stood from her seat, John handed the sidearm back to its owner and stepped forward, finally closed the gap between them, his hands clasping together as the anger in his face vanished and the smile returned. He reached out and took Waltraut's weathered hands. He raised them and kissed her knuckles affectionately.

"Now normally I would be much more hospitable for an old friend like you, but that was before I found out just how much you fucked up my precious sweetheart," John spoke to the older woman, careful to control the rage building in his voice. "You told me –no- you _assured_ me that you would wipe the debt clean owed to you by the Kaltenbrunner family. You swore you would cut their family tree to the root and then salt the fucking earth just to make sure! I told you all those years ago I would postpone my return to the Reich to help you hunt them down… but _nooooo_, you said you could do it alone."

Watching as Waltraut's face strained at what he was speaking of, John dropped her hands and took a step back. She knew exactly where this conversation was turning to.

"So, you can probably imagine my surprise when I get shown security footage of a couple third generation Kaltenbrunner's fuck ups shooting up Spittelmarkt Station like it was just another Friday," He continued, deciding it was better it was out in the air then implied. "I'm going to be under a microscope until these two little shits are in the ground or in jail. Your leniency has virtually paralyzed everything I do outside of Daedalus Foundation."

John fell silent. He at least wanted a solution she could rectify the problem with. Instead her only response was to remain in a defiant silence as she stared right back at him. Like this was just a joke to her. Thanks to her actions twenty years ago, all the projects he had initiated or annexed from taking control of Halid'Zorah's off-the-books Panthar'a Unit. All in all this was a disaster that would set him back months… potentially _years._

And worse yet, here stood this mute woman thinking that the mistake was so insignificant she did not have anything to answer for it. Like her position as head of Aegis Group gave her some sort of clout over him of all people –the man who was bankrolling her operation since the late eighties!

"WHAT THE _FUCK_ IS WRONG WITH YOU, SKORZENY? ANSWER ME, GODDAMN YOU!" John screamed right at her.

Waltraut did not flinch at the display. She did however blink and exhale. Her defensive posturing collapsed soon afterwards. It was satisfying to see her falter like this.

"You're right," Waltraut confessed, turning away from him. "I made a mistake all those years ago. I couldn't go through with killing their children. I thought that if I killed the direct line to Ernst Kaltenbrunner –Hansjörg, Gertrud, Barbara, Wolfgang and Ursula the remainder… the children and those that had them with the Kaltenbrunner's would have a chance at something better-"

"And instead they carried on the grudge and tradition became compulsory for their vengeance," John cut her off as he followed after her. "I'm not looking for an excuse at this point. I get it. You fucked up and to be perfectly honest with you, I find that fact absolutely refreshing to see someone raised by wolves show just a smidgen of humanity once. All I care at this point is how is how you intend on fixing this."

As Waltraut poured herself a glass of whiskey and took a cigarette from off of John's bar, John reached out, grabbed her by the wrist and twirled his former partner/fuck-buddy around in place. Waltraut's expression was one of pure malice for him. It was like it was twenty odd years ago. It was the exact same expression she got before the hate fucking commenced.

"They're working directly with the Fascist Union," she growled up at as she used her free hand to raise her whiskey to her lips. "It's the only possible explanation for their continuation. Kaltenbrunner always wanted to put us directly in their hands, but Father always stopped it. Father never wanted to be tied to one faction too closely."

Slamming the whiskey glass down, she slipped her cigarette in between her ruby lips. Sneering back at her, John let go of her wrist and reached into his jacket for his lighter. Sparking it up, he lit her cigarette for her and watched as the aging femme fatale blew smoke up into his face. From the corner of his eye he noticed Skorzeny's goon curl her lips in disgust at the sight.

"I remember your Father's ravings… Well, a little birdie has told me the Reich will be looking for any justifiable excuse to start a war with the Fascist Union," John spoke softly to her. "You're going to find me that direct evidence and it's going to accidently get into the hands of the Abwehr. When the Union is attacked, you'll be going into to eradicate those shits once and for all. Right?"

Waltraut exhaled her cigarette again.

"I'll have these Kaltenbrunner's eradicated," she assured him.

The assurance was just not good enough. John reached out and linked his fingers in between Waltraut's. His free machine hand moved upwards and grazed the faint rope scars left on her neck by Ernst Kaltenbrunner when she was just a toddler.

"The thing about human cancer like the Kaltenbrunner's is that it's better to destroy surrounding, benign cells with the same sort of malice as the malignant ones," he explained what he wanted a little more carefully for her benefit. "No matter how harmless they seem, it is better to take out of the equation before they have the chance to prove you wrong…"

John trailed off and offered her a smile. "Now..." he finished, "are you going to have a problem with this like last time?"

Waltraut shook her head and ashed the cigarette into the tray.

"I _don't_ have the same sort of inhibition as I had twenty years ago, and I will _not_ be doing this solo," she reassured him sternly, emphatically. "I swear to you that I shall rectify this mistake. This partnership is not as dead as you think it is!"

Now this was the Waltraut he knew all those years ago –fury and brimstone personified into a single, horrible woman who knew how to rain death on everyone who stood in her path. This was the woman who terrified him before he broke his cherry in the private sector. He leaned forward and shook her shoulders with a mad smile for her.

"We'll see… In the meantime, it was good seeing you, my precious," John spoke happily as he poured another shot of whiskey into the glass Waltraut had been using. "Now get the hell out of my home… and I'll be sending the medical bill of my men to 'Fraulein Bad-Bitch' here."

"_You son-of-a-bitch!"_ the young woman screamed at him.

All John did in response was to wave merrily at Fraulein Bad-Bitch and turned his attention back to his drink. He paid no attention as Waltraut collected her muscle and left his penthouse. As soon as the door behind Waltraut and Bad-Bitch closed, John's smile returned back into an expression of loathing.

He would give Waltraut two more years. She had two years to prove herself as a useful asset to him before he burned her and Aegis Group to the ground. This was borrowed time for her. They may have had history, but he was not about to risk the future for his past.

**…**

* * *

**...**

A strange smile remained etched on Waltraut Skorzeny's face as she waited for the elevator. The death threats, the open ended language, the flirting. It was just like it had been before. She could not have been more thrilled that she still had that effect on that bastard Reinhardt Hoch. Damn had she missed that in the twenty years of indirect contact with him.

It seemed that age did not diminish the long simmering tension which he invoked all those years ago when she was first assigned to babysit him through his training. Back when all the training he had was what the Wehrmacht taught him before shipping him to Russia. Back then he had been so weak compared to her or to anyone who dedicated their lives to Paladin. But in the end he somehow managed to surprise her. Persistence -it was one of his few redeeming factors, one of the few traits which her father respected in the Hoch family.

Still, this was not the same Reinhardt she knew back in the 1970's. The new and 'improved' John Hoch was a whole separate matter altogether. Fueled on sex, alcohol, coke and grief for the half breed bitch that rejected him decades ago, he had somehow managed to keep his wits about him and had amassed more power than her Father ever dreamed possible from him. As much as she hated to admit it, both she and Aegis Group would need to keep her primary source of income from cutting ties. That meant keeping him happen, and that meant having to hunt down and eradicate two generations of Kaltenbrunner's.

"Why would you let him speak to you like that?" Waltraut heard growled next to her. "If it were any other person-"

"I would have killed him where he stood," she idly finished the words of the young woman on her left. "But Reinhardt is not wrong to be so upset. I did indeed assure him I would get the job done… but I was exceptionally sloppy between 1978 and 1985... I think you're to blame for it, Emmi."

Her smirk widened as she listened to her daughter huff defensively at the suggestion that she was the reason her mother had a moment of unexpected weakness in the veteran commando. Emily 'Emmi' Skorzeny was not a soft creature. Like her mother before her, she too was raised to abhor weakness on any level; and as such Waltraut saw her child cry perhaps a half dozen times in her 20 years on earth.

This by itself made her very proud indeed. She was everything that her Grandfather aspired Waltraut to be, but could not. She would not have the same sort of mercy or limitations which held back the elder Skorzeny. She was already taking lives by 17. It would have been younger if Waltraut hadn't been holding her back until the very last moment. Those two hired guns of Reinhardt would never have stood a chance if she ordered the order to kill.

Exhaling, Waltraut rubbed her horribly scarred neck. The rope scar was a permanent reminder of the treachery of Ernst Kaltenbrunner-killing her, mother, drugging and maiming her for the sole purpose of deceiving her Father into submission to him. Reinhardt was right. She was weak, and in her weakness allowed even more people to suffer the onslaught of the Kaltenbrunner family.

Well… that was all over. The whole resources of Aegis would go into the destruction of the Paladin pretenders. This time, no one walked away.

"Reinhardt's anger is just bluster, but his warning was real. We need to uncover the link between the resurgent Paladin Group and the Fascist Union, otherwise he will destroy everything we've built," she pressed on as she turned to her child her expression growing grim. "He has reached a tipping point where he might no longer need us. Not when he has half the Wehrmacht clambering to please him… we have to remind him of the value of a real 'off-the-record' organization, right?"

Waltraut watched silently as her child accepted her judgment with a nod of her head. Turning away, she reached out and took her hand into hers.

"So… I trust your first encounter with your Father was as delightful as you expected," Waltraut addressed her child again, her voice remaining toneless as she stared out the glass elevator doors and over the Kiel skyline. "I'm proud you managed to keep it together. I was worried for a moment that you wouldn't… but only for a moment."

Next to her, Emmi's face contorted into an expression of utter revulsion. After Reinhardt's suggestion to fellate him or shut up, Waltraut could not help but sympathize.

"He's a _disgusting_ pig," she complained to her mother, "How could you stand laying with him, let alone fathering a child for you?"

For the first time that day, Waltraut broke her stone cold demeanor into a small laugh at her daughter's observations of her absentee father.

"He's not without his charms, this you'll find out soon enough when I assign you to him," Waltraut admitted out loud, fighting off the urge to blush. "Plus, just you wait until we spring the truth. You're going to wipe that smug look right off his face…"

Eying her mother carefully, Emmi turned away and smiled as well. She seemed to like that plan quite a bit.

**…**

* * *

**…**

**Dammit John…**

**Also… No Soviet intervention in Afghanistan + No Osama Bin Laden Radicalization + Iraq, Iran and the Middle East has to play nice to stay out of the crosshairs of the quarians thereby not forcing the US to build military bases on Saudi holy ground which led to Osama targeting the States= No extremist Osama but instead one that became a the oil/construction baron. **

**The future's not **_**all **_**bad it seems.**

**Anyways, back to Adam and Daelia next time.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	9. The Troubles of Men and Kaisers

**Sorry for the delay.**

**…**

* * *

**…**

**Chapter Nine: The Troubles of Men and Kaisers**

**…**

Sitting in the driving seat of his brand new Mercedes-Benz E-Class –a replacement for the SUV which his insurance wrote off as a total loss, Adam Ackerson glanced at his daughter sitting in the back seat, she was in the middle of humming an aimless tune as she coloured on her datapad.

Tonight was the night of her big sleepover which she and Candace Hoch managed to coerce Uncle John into facilitating for the two of them. Even the Industrialist seemed impressed by their ability to turn his arm so effortlessly. It would be a talent that John would likely be honing in the near future.

Although Amala seemed perfectly fine, Adam had to admit he himself was a tad bit nervous as he drove his girl to her first sleepover. Sure, he had spent many nights away from her, but she was safe at home and not at someone else's place.

"Well, 'Mala…" Adam addressed his child as he turned off the main road and into to the private grounds. "Are you ready for this?"

Amala looked up from her screen and smiled at him serenely. With a toothy grin she nodded and turned back to her colouring once again. Of course she was ready for this. What five year old wouldn't be ready to spend the day, night and next day with her best friend and in the company of an adult known for spoiling her rotten with just about every luxury he could ever bestow on her.

Adam frowned to himself as he noticed a dark van parked on the edge between the public roads and the grounds leading up to the Hoch estate. It was… peculiar.

"I know that Uncle John is a lot of fun," Adam pressed on, his eyes flickering from road to the rear view mirror as he glanced at the van he passed by. "But you're going to be respectful for him, right? You're not going to be demanding, and you will listen to him. I taught you better then to be spoiled, haven't I?"

Amala merely nodded.

"I'll be good," she promised in that sweet voice that told Adam she was absolutely full of shit.

Ignoring the beating inside his chest caused from what felt like a heart palpitation caused by John's ability to corrupt just about anyone he came into contact with. Adam rubbed his head and exhaled, mentally counting backwards until his heart rate calmed down. It was just John, and John despite his… eccentricity was a good, decent guy who knew to respect any boundary the Father placed over his child.

At least that was what he hoped…

"Yeah, I imagine you will," he finally spoke, keeping his voice from quivering. Deciding to lighten the mood, he added, "You're not going to overload on sugar and snacks, right? No more than four teaspoons a day, remember?"

That devious little smile crossed her mouth again. It was hard to believe at five she was already placating him. Adam rubbed his mouth and glanced at his girl once again. He ignored the lump in his throat and the urge to tear up. Amala was growing up far faster than he had expected… it seemed just like yesterday he was changing her diapers. Yes… he got emotional over the little things when it came to his little girl. It was absolutely ridiculous reaction. Even to him.

"You cheeky little liar," he managed to get out, blinking out the mist in his eyes. "I'll overlook this outing… but don't think that this is going to be normal now… and… you know you can call me any time if you want to come home. It's okay to be nervous..."

Adam trailed off from giving Amala her way out of the sleepover as he pulled up the front gates to the Hoch Estate. He closed his mouth and parked the car without another word for his child. He turned around in his seat and unbuckled the car seat she sat in, his eyes never leaving the home. Amala, obvious to the change to the home, scurried out of the car with a yipping cheer.

Grabbing Amala's bag, Adam pulled himself out of his new car and stretched as he looked around. Usually the John Hoch's home was warm and carefree. It was part of its charm, the sheer carefree nature of the estate which John primarily resided in. This was no longer the case.

There were at least two dozen quarians were patrolling the perimeter of the estate that he could see. How many others out there was just a guess to him. Hoch could hire an army if he wanted. The quarian security contractors were wearing tactical gear, HUD glasses and openly carrying automatic rifles and submachine guns. They had even brought along attack dogs. All of this was a far, far cry from the John Hoch that was ordinarily at ease with everything.

These were the men and women of _Watchtower Defense._ Watchtower Defense was a quarian private security firm which exclusively hired from the quarian military. These men were discharged and inactive soldiers waiting on the call to return to all branches of the Mandate's military at a moment's notice. Professional war fighters hired out for civilian matters. It was one of a handful of security subcontractors to the Reich and the Mandate allowed exercising deadly force with limited blowback. It was one of the more frightening developments in the two superpowers –privatisation of law and order. It wasn't widespread yet, but it was a creeping sort of growth that made him nervous.

Taking Amala by her hand, Adam held her back a step behind him as he approached the gate entrance where the heaviest security presence. The quarian security team held their carefully trained gazes on the two of them as though they were a threat.

"Identification, sir," one of the guards requested, his tone was curt and guarded as his bright eyes glowed behind his glasses.

Adam offered him a mild smile instead. It was an expression which the guard was not quite receptive of.

"Adam and Amala Ackerson…" Adam introduced himself and his daughter to the man. "John Hoch gave us the invitation-"

"It does not matter what the client says," the quarian stated. "Please produce two pieces of identification for yourself and submit your child to a bioscanner check."

"_They're on the list. Just let them through."_

Adam arched his head around the gate security team. Approaching the front gate was an equally armed and armoured Isabella Ochoa. Unlike the quarians, however, she smiled to the Ackerson's and strapped her weapon back onto her mag strip. As soon as Isabella got within arm's length of the two of them, she bent onto one knee and placed her gloved hand onto Amala's hair.

"Hey there sweet pea, you're just in time!" She said, smiling widely behind her aviators. "Candace just got here, she's in the pool. Why don't you run along and join her!"

Amala nodded and looked back to Adam for a moment. Getting no denial, she handed him her colouring work and ran past three converged guards chatting in serious sounding Khelish. As soon as she left Adam's sight, the nervous Father turned back to Isabella, whose smile vanished somewhat and her rifle was once again in her hands.

"Isabella… is everything alright here?" he asked her pointedly.

Turning her shaded eyes away from the gate, Isabella nodded a little less confidently than Adam would want out of an ex-USAF fighter pilot.

"Yeah…" Isabella started, noticing the interrogative expression on the concern man's face, she sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, adding; "Well… no it's not, but I promise she'll be safe. The boss wanted an additional security contingent to his home, so he hired a quarian team."

"This wouldn't have something to do with the van parked outside? Adam bluntly asked. "You know the one? The dark van whose operators have probably watched far too many bad cop movies and thought it might be inconspicuous because it worked in Hollywood?"

Isabella broke out into a small laugh as she looked in the direction of the van. She nodded slightly.

"The Bundespolizei are sitting on the place, but that's not the reason why Watchtower is here," she informed him, her words reluctant to explain. "These Riots are getting bad, and the protestors are looking for scapegoats like John or quarians, or anyone in a position of power to shift the blame to. Like I said, this is all just a preventative action."

Adam nodded, convinced by what Isabella was saying. It made sense that John did not want to handle an influx of commoners trying to intimidate him, so in typical John fashion he hired military contractors to keep them off his back. Still, something about this bothered him greatly. He supposed he just wasn't used to John the carefree billionaire turning his home into an armed camp.

"Still… open carrying military-grade armament?" John questioned again, knowing full well he must have been driving her crazy with his concerns. "This seems a bit overkill. Where is he, anyways?"

Resting her rifle to one side, Isabella reached out with her free hand and wrapped it around his shoulder and turned him in the direction Amala had run off in.

"The boss is by the pool as well," she informed him lightly. "Don't be so concerned, Adam. Everything is going to be okay!"

Adam emitted a second take at the woman. He wished he could believe that with her level of confidence.

**…**

* * *

**…**

_Action Report: 0242 SIREN_

_To Members of Project SIREN_

_Due to unforeseen circumstances of which were out of our control, I have taken the unilateral step of suspending further developments to Project SIREN for the time being. Site Zero is now under lockdown and on standby until further notice. All base personnel, both security and scientific fields will be permitted limited leave under Section 5, subsection 8 of your employment contract once applicants for said leave are subject to silence clauses in contracts._

_Take heart, I am undeniably proud of each and every one of you. Together we have made more progress in the past 8 years than the previous administration of Site Zero had in the nearly half a century before I joined this community. Unfortunately we live in an era of extreme government paranoia. It is expected when we consider we are on the cusp of a galactic resurgence. We must therefore tread extraordinarily carefully until the Reich and the Mandate have devoted their attention to the extraterrestrial politics and war. Only then will we be free to continue our work without potential interference._

_Until then, like your predecessor Admiral Halid'Zorah, we shall return to the route of which this organization was founded upon –Forethought, Execution and Thoroughness. As I will be unable to make any further visitations from time to time, Field Director Kalin'Galu is to assume direct control of the Site. I am sure that he will perform admirably under these difficult circumstances-_

"I can't help but notice you have upped your security. Isabella gave the excuses, but is there anything I need to worry about?"

John looked up from his terminal and found pinnacle of worrywartdom, Adam Ackerson was approaching him, Amala's small pink backpack in one hand and his face rippled with an odd foreboding. As shrieking between Candace and Amala heated up, John saved the transcript and gestured to the sun chair next to him. He offered Adam a mild grin.

"Everything is fine, so simmer down," John replied as Adam took a seat on the chair offered to him. "Frankly this security upgrade has been a long time coming. For far too long I've been laid back about who I have guard me. Watchtower is the natural successor to Daedalus Foundation security."

His words did not seem to comfort Adam even slightly, but it was enough to sate the man's natural curiosity. Honestly, John felt bad having to lie to him, but it was really all he could do at the moment. What was he going to do? Tell a friend, but still uninitiated employee that Watchtower Security's real owner was was him, that it was actually a front for Panthar'a Unit so that the black ops unit could operate in the spot light without raising a whole hell of a lot of suspicions? That the security was here because John's encounter with the Kaltenbrunner's resurgence and Waltraut Skorzeny's ability to break into his home and disable the standing conventional guard had left him paranoid as fuck?

Of course not! It was better to present a calm and casual face when one arms himself to the teeth. Becoming a raving lunatic only drew suspicions.

"Thanks again for doing this, by the way," Adam spoke up again as John lit himself a cigarette. "If she gets uncomfortable, you can call me any time of the night."

John waved the concerns off. The girls would be fine. Why would he ever risk Alexandria McKellan's legacy by placing her into a dangerous situation? He glanced at Adam. Sure enough the Doctor was checking his watch, a stupid little grin on his face. Inwardly John groaned at the expression, he knew exactly what it entailed. He was granted another opportunity to pretend he was half his age again.

"I take it you have grand plans today?" John addressed Adam slyly. "I dare say it will involve another hot and heavy session of hand holding with Miss Vael?"

Gleefully watching as Adam sputtered his half thought out excuses as to the lack of physical affection between him and the quarian like an idiot, John dug into his golden Second Reich era cigarette case. From what details he could ascertain from first and second hand sources –namely from keeping in touch with Daelia's elder sister Nytalia, they were like a couple of 12 year olds trying to be first time boyfriend/girlfriends. They rarely touched each other, they hadn't even had sex and considering the amount of time they had been seeing each other, that was a ridiculous concept!

But as annoying as it may have been that his friend was dating someone and not having the common fucking courtesy of giving her a good solid dicking, there seemed to have been a rather important detail that neither Daelia, nor by extension Nytalia did not know yet. That there was much more to John's life then he was letting on; and this was what was troubling John the most about the little relationship Adam was building with a mentally unstable woman.

Why exactly was Adam so dead set on keeping his child a secret from her?

"Tell me," John decided to ask in-between inhaling his cigarette. "Are you ashamed Amala?"

John remained still as he watched Adam give a double take at the suggestion that he was somehow ashamed to be a Father. He knew better than to believe what he said, but it was enough to wake Adam back to some sort of reality. He had been in cloud nine ever since he stumbled into this Zorah woman… Vael, whatever she called herself.

"How could you even suggest that?" Adam hissed at John, who merely shrugged his shoulders and reclined backwards into his chair.

"You have been seeing this woman for three weeks now, and so far you haven't even made a passing reference to you being a Father to her," John pointed out as he rested free hand behind the back of his head. "So I've come to a conclusion that you fear making an introduction…so it's only natural I'm concluding that you are ashamed of her."

He watched as Adam rubbed the bridge of his nose. Perhaps there was more to the silence then John had first thought…

"I'm not afraid, John, and I'm _certainly_ not ashamed of my child existing!" Adam nearly exclaimed at John, the only reason he didn't allow his tone to raise any higher was due to the children in close proximity. "I… _just_… I don't know when would be the appropriate time. You seem to assume that I have seen her every day of those three weeks. I've seen her four times, five if you include our first encounter. She`s not exactly clingy. So springing the truth now seems a little… fast."

John held his unblinking eyes on his parent's personal physician. If what Adam was saying was true, and they were only dating casually, then he supposed there was some stock in Adam's concerns. Perhaps this would be it –just a causal relationship. Then this Daelia would soon show her real colours to John and revert back to her natural state of total aloofness to social interaction, and then he would grow frustrated and end the relationship without having to scar Amala by involving her in the whole bloody mess…

Oh… who was he kidding? Adam Ackerson was the epitome of paragon driven by his heart compared to John. He would not so easily give up and drop the woman like she was a bad habit. He was a patient man, and any quirks that arise from this Daelia situation would be more or less dealt with unless she flat out rejected his child. That was the only legitimate way he would end the relationship.

Already tired of his cigarette, John stubbed it out. He held his eyes on Amala as she splashed into his infinity edge pool with Candace. Perhaps he would make it easier; at least for now.

"And what happens when you wait until _you_ feel comfortable admitting it?" John inquired finally, a slight frown formulating. "I imagine that will cause you a hell of a lot more troubles with her then getting it out in the open soon. I imagine a woman in her… _delicate_ condition may not be so pleased you're holding a child as a secret from her.**"**

John sighed and waved his hand at the somewhat dumbstruck Adam.

"But I suppose I should not impose _my_ viewpoint into your relations. I simply want what is best for Amala, and for you," John spoke again casually. "If you are happy with this one, then I believe having the truth come out now when you control it would be better for you. You can spin it to however you wish you want it then."

Adam looked like he wanted nothing better than to argue the point. But he wasn't about to. Instead he sighed, rubbing his face.

"This isn't some sort of data breach at one of your labs," Adam murmured back, his voice conflicted. "Still… you aren't wrong," he amended reluctantly. "I'll tell her about Amala… not today, but very soon. I'll try to ease her into me being a little more complicated than random stranger she bumped into."

John nodded sympathetically. He was pleased Adam was finally coming back to reality.

"It's for the best," John reassured the younger man. He gave a sideway glance at the man and smirked as he added. "You know, it's not everyday someone like me is shilling out basic fucking dating advice to a peon like you. I've been going to bat for you in this relationship for so long now that I should be charging you a fee or something."

Chuckling at the remark, Adam stood up from his seat and stepped back from the Industrialist.

"Yeah, I love you too," he remarked casually as he readjusted his jacket. "Good luck with those two troublemakers… you're gonna need it."

As Adam waved farewell to him and went to go plant a goodbye kiss on his daughter, John merely grinned and put his earbuds back in and turned up his personal music device. It had been sometime since he listened to his _Hoch Mix, summer '88._ He needed his Peter Gabriel fix stat.

**…**

* * *

**…**

_This had better been worth his time._

With only that thought on his mind from East Prussia to Berlin, placing his officer cap under his arm, Generalmajor Jochen von Hoch ascended the final stairs leading up to Sanssouci – the summer vineyard palace of the Hohenzollern family. Built in the 18th century for the Prussian King Fredrick the Great, the palace was described as a rival to Versailles in all ways but size. It was quite a modest sized home, built for a modest king.

Why Jochen, a relatively newly promoted general, had been summoned to appear before the Kaiser was a genuine mystery. Even his friend and senior officer Erich-Rüdiger von Manstein had been overlooked for such a personal encounter. Not that a visit to the Kaiser was a particularly sought after meeting. Nearly a hundred years after the disaster that was Kaiser Wilhelm II reign, the positon of the Kaiser was still a stigmatized one amongst the Wehrmacht elite. It did not matter that they were on to his great-great-grandson; the army never forgot the humiliation of Wilhelm's handling of the Great War.

Jochen was not a foolish man; at least that was his own personal opinion on himself. He was not here for a social call, he was meant to facilitate one thing and one thing only: the reinstatement of his Mother to the royal advisory position. It was a role that Mother wanted the least. Publicly she would say that it was her advanced age. That she was held back by the past. She was in no position to advise a Kaiser in the middle of a galactic-wide war against the geth. That was the story he would propagate to the Kaiser.

In private, however, Mother expressed her… doubts about the Emperor. He was exceptionally young to be in a position of war Kaiser, and this was not the same sort of man, whom Mother had advised. He was not the idealistic Louis Ferdinand of the modern age, nor was he the kindly, but briefly serving Kaiser Michael.

Victor-Marius was a clear descendent of Wilhelm II. He was as fascinated by war as the old Kaiser had been. With one… possible exception; he seemed to be prepared for it. He went to all the right military schools, and had all the right private tutors –Prussian and quarian alike teaching him. All of this education left him a rather stern young man in public. He was not so easy to drop his guard. As such his subjects considered him aloof and uncaring and the Wehrmacht was left in a state of curiosity. If it had not been a show like Wilhelm II's militarism, which dropped at the first sign of trouble, then perhaps he would be a Kaiser worth the loyalty of the armed forces of the Reich one day.

The front doors to the Sanssouci Palace opened and out came a flurry of people, making Jochen pause. The group was composed of a guard detail surrounding mostly young women, smiling and laughing, their attentions all drawn to the one in the middle, the centre of all the attention. Jochen snapped to attention and turned to his side. It was the young, newly crowned Empress Victoria Ingrid.

At 21, Victoria was formerly the heir apparent to the Swedish throne, until she found love (perhaps, one couldn't quite tell in royal marriages) in the form of the 25 year old Kaiser Victor-Marius. They had married in May, so the marriage was still considerably fresh on the public conscious. It was clear from day one of their marriage commitment that she was to be the soft side to the soon-to-be war Kaiser. She was a philanthropist with the highest regard to humanity. In other words, she was an atypically weak willed, bleeding heart Swede. And now… now she was well over her head in the vicious circles she was now attempting to traverse.

God protect the Empress and all that…

Jochen remained silent as the Empress looked his way. Her eyes widened slightly and she held up her hand, silencing her companions and stopping the guard in their tracks. She glided her way from out of the group and stopped in front of him. As she did so, Jochen suppressed all his displeasures about the Swedes, remembered his place and bowed his head to her, his heels clicking together.

"Your Grace," he greeted the Empress, his tone remaining as ridged as if he had been addressing Erich-Rüdiger von Manstein's father Generalfeldmarschall Rüdiger von Manstein.

The Empress smiled softly. Her delicate hands reaching out and took each of his. It was a far too personal thing for him to endure. No proper Prussian Empress would be caught dead making such a bold gesture to one of her soldiers. Not until they were only better terms at least. This was pure Nordic niceties. She was descendent of Vikings and the great Napoleonic War Marshall John Bernadotte. She should know better. Her blood should have told her better!

"You must be Generalleutnant… ah, _Generalmajor_ von Hoch. I'm so sorry, I'm still getting used to the ranks," the Empress apologized profusely, her German accented with thick Swedish overtones. "Victor has had nothing but praise for your family. I myself have had dealings with your brother, John in charity functions we patronage. What a terribly charming, selfless man he is."

Terribly charming and selfless… yeah, that sure was the Reinhardt that Jochen knew. Unable to voice any praise for his older brother and knowing better then to spill the skeletons in the Hoch closet to the Empress, Jochen instead swallowed his annoyance and instead inclined his head. He would permit the Empress this delusion of his sibling, if only to spare his family name of admitting his shame to the Empress.

"I'm pleased to hear that His Majesty still remembers my family's contribution to his House's initial survival," Jochen voiced out loud. "Not many were willing to take a chance on the Hohenzollern's as my Mother and Father did."

For a moment Jochen thought perhaps he said too much, but Empress Victoria mouth formed into a smile and then emitted a small unroyal giggle at the statement. It seemed she too held the same sort of opinion on the sheer luck House Hohenzollern had managed to get since the collapse of National Socialism

"Oh, I like this one, he's not quite as stuffy as the rest of the General Staff," she beamed brightly to her entourage. The Empress turned back to Jochen and added. "I've heard stories about your family. I'm glad to see that uniform hasn't completely suppressed your eccentricity. You're a lot like your brother; you just can't admit it, can you?"

Leaving Jochen pale faced by the suggestion that he was in any way, shape or form like his bastard older brother, the young Empress smiled politely and let go of his hands. She, her entourage and her guard detail continued down the long front steps, leaving the Generalmajor silently fuming. Taking a deep breath, he turned and found there was still one man standing there watching him. He appeared to be some sort of personal servant to the Kaiser, judging from his demeanor.

"Is Her Grace usually that overly friendly?" Jochen inquired as he stepped up the final stairs to stand looming well over the old servant. The servant nodded his head; his eyes gazed in her direction.

"Quite. It's the Scandinavian curse; with any luck the children they sire will not be educated in the way she aspires the future of this line to be," the old man spoke, his voice displeased. Exhaling, he turned back to Jochen and more formerly, added. "Generalmajor Von Hoch, His Majesty is in a meeting in the grand hall. While he permitted you to join in, I trust that you will keep to yourself until he concludes his business. His affairs have nothing to do with the Wehrmacht. I trust you will respect the separation of military and civilian affairs."

Jochen nodded. It was all that was needed for the old servant to turn away and gesture to the Generalmajor to follow him into the Palace. Thankfully the servant remained silent in the course of the journey to the Kaiser. Mother and Father always lamented having to be given 20 minutes of etiquette lessons as though as if Kaiser Ferdinand actually cared about the formality of his advisors.

Then again, now that he thought about it, perhaps it was a justified concern amongst the help of the time-Father was still regarded as an uneducated Nazi and Mother wasn't actually the symbol of charm and civility in her fiery youth, whereas Jochen had spent just about his entire education between 13 to 18 in an East Prussian Junkerschule. Dealing with the royal family was a second nature bred into him. Just as learning how to shave or flossing ones teeth. They were the annoying habits he just had to learn about.

"_-This U-Bahn massacre was unacceptable, a nightmare,"_ he heard the familiar voice as soon as he entered the Great Hall. _"But this delay in capturing or eradicating those responsible has been a travesty to the dead. I want the culprits brought justice by any means necessary."_

Jochen went still next to the servant as he noticed sure enough that Kaiser Victor-Marius was in the same room as he. His back was turned and surrounding him was all members of both the Bundespolizei as well as from the Heer Feldgendarmie. It appeared the servant was full of shit. This had indeed become a military affair. It took all of Jochen's discipline not to turn around and strike the old man for misrepresenting the situation.

As the group spoke amongst each other, the Kaiser turned around from the gathering of officials and locked his steel blue eyes onto Jochen. Next to him, the servant bowed his head. Jochen knew better then to do the same so soon. Wehrmacht procedure when dealing with the Kaiser was to salute when addressed, then incline the head once the officer in question was to exit the room. It was meant as a compromise between the crown and the military, still very much deadlocked against each other and held together by an eroding vow made 60 years ago.

"Generalmajor Jochen von Hoch," the Kaiser addressed him. "I am pleased you have arrived as soon as you did. Tell me, what is your opinion on this massacre?"

Saluting the Kaiser, the Generalmajor stepped forward past the servant and join the Kaiser, who gestured for him to stand next to him. Hoch did so and found that the gathering was looking at security images and a map of the Reich and the possible locations the terrorists were hiding in. His eyes scanned the map carefully and paused as he noticed a name.

_Kaltenbrunner._

There was a surname that filled him with sheer hatred. Jochen looked up and met the Kaiser's stare head on. He was still waiting for an answer.

"I believe we should not rush into a witch hunt for whoever is responsible," he spoke with as much measure as he could produce. "We need to quietly work towards figuring out who was behind the attacks –not just the gunmen, but the ones financing their attack and what motivation they would have. Once the truth is uncovered, then a sufficient recourse is drawn up."

The Kaiser frowned, although it did not seem to be caused by annoyance. It appeared that Jochen's suggestion was more or less what the police leadership suggested. The Kaiser appeared to be a little more agitated at the suggestion of patience.

"Very good… very good," The Kaiser mused as he turned away from Jochen and looked to the rest of the gathering. "Gentlemen," he pressed on. "I believe you have an investigation to conduct. You have my best wishes and hopes to apprehending the criminals swiftly."

Kaiser Victor-Marius wrapped his hands behind his back and together with Jochen, remained silent as he watched the gathering of police bow and back out of the Great Hall, leaving the Emperor and the Generalmajor alone. The Kaiser was the first one to break his pose. He stepped forward and poured two glasses of ice water and extended the glass out to Hoch, who took it.

"I trust my wife did not talk you to near death on her garden tour," the Kaiser remarked as he wandered out to the observation windows. "Sometimes she forgets this is not Sweden, where the army is as soft and talkative as the citizenry."

Behind the Kaiser, Jochen nearly quirked his lips in amusement; he supressed the urge to suggest that it must have been a wife thing, as his Saxony born wife suffered from the same sort of delusions that somehow Jochen would be interested in the things that kept her busy.

"She was telling me how kind my Brother was in her meetings with him," instead admitted to his Emperor.

The Kaiser turned around, his expression hardened into one of displeasure; his dark hair nearly flew into disarray.

"Then she is more foolish then I had anticipated," the Kaiser spoke sharply. "She is too easily star struck for her own good. I suppose that comes when you are a part of a monarchy without any teeth."

Running his free hand through his hair, the young Kaiser took a breath and reformed his glare into a carefully choreographed smile. He stepped forward and planted himself back in front of the Generalmajor.

"I am indeed pleased to have a member of the Hoch family standing here; as it should be," he spoke again, his voice much lighter than before, almost casual even. "Your family has always served as some of harshest critics to the Hohenzollern family. Somehow your Mother managed to force my Grandfather to abandon his optimism for a more pragmatic approach to his rule. It is likely your line is the only reason my family has retained its positon in the face of near total Wehrmacht domination in the early years. Many times Grandfather confided in me that he nearly toppled to the pressures of the Gerd von Rundstedt and Erich von Manstein alliance. These were powerful men held at bay all thanks to the spirit and indomitable determination of your Mother, and your Father's own brutal truth telling."

Attempting to not be exacerbated by the longwinded nature of the royal, Jochen exhaled. He knew exactly what this was. The Kaiser did not need to use so many words to spell out just what in the hell he wanted out of the Generalmajor.

"These are tense days," the Kaiser pressed forward. "The fleets are ready to converge on the galaxy in one violent wave and the Heer is ready to roll over geth menace. All that stands in our way are a few pesky issues on our borders that we must tie up first. Total war will be unleashed on the Soviet Union and the Fascist Union of Nations; and soon the Casablanca declaration will come into effect. The Wehrmacht Council will soon be in near total control of the Reich… the faces are different, but many of the family names remain, as with their definitions of what the Reich should be. And so it should be no surprise to you that they do not have the legacy of my Grandfather in their thoughts-"

Without thinking, Jochen held up his hand. Now he was officially done with tact. He would do instead as the Manstein's taught him: Audacity was a cure to pompous behaviour of the politician.

"With all due respect, Sire, but you have summoned me while I am in the process of co-creating a training regimen so that non-Germanic European forces can fight more efficiently at our side," Jochen briskly snapped at the young Kaiser. "May I remind you that this meeting is a direct interference with the Hohenzollern-Manstein Agreement, and thus my visit here is not subject to the usual niceties your protocol requires out of me."

Setting down the glass of water on the table, Jochen maintained his eye contact on the Kaiser, who was stunned by the reaction. He likely expected it out of someone higher in rank then a Generalmajor.

"So if I may cut to the chase," Jochen dared to say. "I imagine that this meeting has something to do with my Mother. I know that she is routinely being harassed by your aides to visit you in hopes of her returning to an advisory position. I know that she is rather displeased that you are calling on her to disrupt her retirement."

The Kaiser looked back to Jochen and eyed his wearily. He seemed perturbed that Jochen was speaking to him like he was, but knew better then to start a fight with someone who was so closely aligned to the Manstein family. Slowly he shook his head and turned away again.

"No, that is what my aides –the leftovers from my Grandfather's regime want," he informed the Generalmajor as he took a seat. "They believe a relic of the past would serve me better. You must understand that I mean no disrespect to her great achievements. I care for her greatly, but her time is past."

Hoch nodded curtly.

"No offense taken," Hoch returned as he wrapped his hands behind his back. "Those are very nearly the exact same words she herself has used."

The Kaiser glanced back at him, his eyebrow arched in curiosity.

"Then I am pleased she still has a value in her honesty and self-acknowledgment," he acknowledge with a slight bow of his head. "What I am looking for is an adviser carrying the Hoch name and the values taught to them. My first option would naturally be you; however your service to the Wehrmacht would put you in a compromising position."

"I would be honoured to serve in an advisory capacity," Jochen replied, lying through his teeth at the Kaiser's opinion. "But you are right, sire, you will need another counselling you… and preferably not my brother, Reinhardt…"

The Kaiser's face darkened at the idea of Reinhardt Hoch becoming his personal adviser.

"No, certainly not; John Hoch's crimes were overlooked by my Grandfather out of immense respect to your Mother and Father. If it was up to me, I would have found a way to have him arrested for his… youthful indiscretions," he muttered, unable to hide his malice. "But now he has become an untouchable, necessary evil we all must work with now. His charming smile and voice does not sway me from the knowledge that he is a confessed Nazi sympathizer. Reading his record is far more ghastly…"

Jochen nodded. Although he was weary of the Kaiser, he could not help but feel a significant increase in respect for the young emperor. He could recognize a threat when it presented itself. He was not so easily swayed by the power that Reinhardt held in the country since Daedalus Foundation soared to the top of the medical and experimental technology field in the Reich.

Perhaps there was some hope in this Kaiser. Perhaps he would not be quite as bad as the previous three. If that was the case, then perhaps he would aid the Kaiser in securing his position.

"My first choice would be my sister, Haeva Hoch," Jochen suggested to the Kaiser. "Erika Hoch would be a good choice as well, but Erika is neck deep into motherhood –a single parent, her husband abandoned her shortly after the birth of their child no less. I do not think she'll have the time to be at on call for you as Haeva could be."

Victor-Marius frowned at the information. He stood back up from his seat and joined Jochen once again.

"It is important for a working Mother to have her spare time devoted to the wellbeing of her child," he agreed with the Generalmajor. "Very well then, I shall consider Haeva for the position if that is your final recommendation."

"It is," he confirmed. Deciding to take a modicum of mercy on the Kaiser, he added. "Haeva is… fiery –as ill-tempered as my mother and father combined if she is incensed- but she is extremely dependable once you gain her loyalty… and her loyalty is to family. And by extension, that means her loyalty is absolute to Reinhardt… John. I'm afraid that your title will not be able to help as much as you would like it to, sire."

The Kaiser huffed and chuckled lowly.

"Then I shall strive to be an impressive character," The Kaiser assured him in a jovial tone. "Come, we shall have a lunch and you will catch me up with everything related to your family."

Wanting nothing better than to head back to his command, Jochen inclined his head and obliged his Kaiser. The sooner he was done with this, the better.

**…**

* * *

**…**

Sipping on her afternoon cup of tea, Daelia'Vael held her head low as she zoned in and out as Head Teacher Ursula Clasen droned on the upcoming Memorial Day observance and what each class would be doing for the school wide assembly. Two years into her full time positon at Princess Marie Elementary School and she was well aware of the role her class would play – and that was to sing _'Ich hatt' einen Kameraden' _as well as_ 'Requiem for the Ancestors'_ before the school at large.

Thankfully she wasn't the only one more or less ignoring the Head Teacher. Everyone just seemed like they wanted nothing better than to wrap things up and get out early. Keelah, the Gym instructor Voormann looked as though he wanted nothing better than to take his own life rather than listen to another second of what was being laid out.

For Daelia, her mind was on one thing as she idly stirred her tea; and that was meeting up with Adam after the meeting. She needed to get home quickly and get changed into something that didn't scream like she was some sort of… teacher as her black jacket and white blouse screamed. It did not matter that Adam explicitly stated that he found her career admirable. To her she was a far cry from a physician to one of the most influential families in the Reich.

Compared to him, she was plain, boring…

Under most, if not all other circumstances, she would not have mind to live a mundane life. If anything that was what she strove for. But with Adam, it was… it was just different now. She wanted to impress him at times, to show him that she was indeed someone interesting. This was a terribly foreign practice for her, but she was willing to give it a try. Because Adam deserved to be interested in someone who was actually interesting…

Sighing, Daelia finally sipped from her mug. She paid no attention to a knocking noise behind her.

"Excuse me," she heard Head Teacher Casen speak abruptly. "Can we help you?"

There was a brief pause.

"_Teacher's lounge, right?"_a familiar voice called out, breaking Daelia from her concentration on her tea. _"I hope I haven't interrupted anything."_

Daelia nearly flew out of her seat as she turned around and found none other than Adam Ackerson standing there in the doorway. Wearing a rolled up long sleeved shirt and jeans with both his hands tucked into his pockets. On his face that familiar sly grin he got whenever he managed to get a rise out of her.

Realizing she was now the centre of attention of her colleagues, Daelia gave a nervous little exhale and slumped back into her seat. How… what… why was this happening? Had she… did she somehow stumble into a conversation about just where she worked with him and had completely forgotten about it? It would not have been a shock if that had been the case.

"I'm afraid that I'm here to steal Miss Vael away from you," Adam replied in his breezy North American accented German to the head teacher. "Would that be okay? Or should I wait?"

Clasen glanced back to the frozen in shock Daelia. Under all other circumstances, she would have very likely asked the man for patience while she wrapped up her meeting. This, however, was something completely different. Daelia had made a point not to get her personal life intermixed into her professional life. So to have quite possibly the single most personal thing she had wandering into her work, it must have brought quite a bit of shock to her.

"Certainly," Clasen agreed with John merrily. "We were just wrapping up, anyways. Go on Daelia, have a pleasant day."

Flying out of her seat, Daelia blew by the teachers and quick marched to Adam, standing there grinning like a happy-go-lucky fool at her. She did not stop walking at him. It was enough to motivate the man to slowly back out of the room without her having to make a scene in front of her colleagues.

"_Hi_," she breathed to him, not allowing him a chance to return the greeting_. "I… I got to gather my things. I'll… be… I… I'll be right out, okay?"_

If Adam had anything to say, she more or less tuned it out as she closed the door in his face and turned around to lean against it. She looked up and found herself suddenly being approached by her colleagues. All of them seemed so very excited by… well… whatever they implicated in what little they had seen between Adam and her.

Realizing quicker than usual that she was about to be judged, Daelia rubbed the back of her neck and attempted to give a small laugh. Much to her own mortification, it came out as a gasp.

"Daelia'Vael, just who is that?" Clasen was the first one to tease. That was all it took for the silence of the teachers to be broken. It was a sudden rush of over-attention that Daelia shut down her focus and looked blankly from each of the grinning faces. Whether they were honest enthusiasm or mocking she just could not tell at that point.

"_-Well, it seems we stumbled into a bloody miracle." _

The words of Gym Instructor Voormann brought her back to focus. She pushed through her colleagues, gathering her belongings and rushed out by them without so much as the trained farewell she mechanically issued them like any other day. Slamming the door behind her, she turned and Found Adam standing there, his hands deep in his jean pockets with a grin still plastered on her face.

Rearranging her jacket, briefcase and datapad's in her arms, Daelia watched as Adam stepped forward.

"W-what are you doing here? I thought we would meet at my place…" she asked him, her eyes wide as she scanned him. Her mouth unhinged as her eyes moved back and forth to take in every familiar line on his face.

"Your sister told me where you worked," Adam informed her, that little grin of his crossing back onto his face as he gently pulled her jacket from her arms. "It took a good half an hour of pleading to convince her to divulge this location last night. Between you and me, I think she doesn't like me very much."

She felt as Adam wrapped her in her jacket. For a moment her mind went blank as she pushed her arms into the sleeves and stood back up straight.

Daelia looked up to Adam with a certain amount of reproach in her eyes. She remained silent for a moment as she took a chance and after tucking away her datapads into her briefcase, reached out with her now free hand to take Adam's into hers. Adam glanced at the gesture and grinned slightly at her attempt at being bold. Keelah it was still a thrill to do for her.

As her fingers moved against his in a slow graze, she could not help but be aware of just how strange a feeling it had been, holding a five digit hand so closely. Though, if she was being honest with herself, she hadn't exactly gone out of her way to hold a three digit hand either. Her sister was the only one to do it, and she more or less had to drag Daelia around.

"No she doesn't," she spoke as they started walking again, steadying her tone as she looked away from him and down to her feet. "She doesn't like having her position undermined by others -especially since she got pregnant. She's not usually bad… she just likes to… she just likes to be in control."

She turned away from Adam as he nodded.

"…and how should I go about my interactions with her in the future?" he inquired rather abruptly. I am speaking hypothetically of course, but let's assume that you and I get to know each other better and we don't scare each other off. That will mean I will get to know your family a little bit better than her and your sisters showing up like they did once.

As they reached the front doors, Daelia was spared a response. The receptionists were gathered around the exit. All of them had been chatting at least until Daelia and Adam turned the corner and entered their line of sight. As soon their attention turned to the two of them, Daelia dropped Adam's hand and sped up her pace; leaving Adam two paces behind her as she rushed by the support staff without uttering a single word and stepped outdoors, Adam not far behind her.

She turned back as soon as she felt his hand reach out and take her by her wrist. It was only then that she realized just how hard her heart was pounding. She was not sure why she was having such an adverse reaction to being affectionate in the presence of people she knew. Perhaps it was a matter of pride, or professionalism in the workplace. Whatever it was, it drove the reaction.

Adam remained silent as he held his eyes on her. It was the same sort of look she faintly recalled from her childhood getting from her Father. He did not seem to be judging her, but he was certainly concerned by the reaction. She felt the hand on her wrist soften and slide until it was once again wrapped around hers.

"Just… just…be yourself," Daelia quickly turned the conversation back to the original topic at hand as she peaked shyly at him. "Once she gets used to your opposition, she'll soften to you… I am still… grateful that you stood up to her so soon…"

Adam finally blinked, breaking his gaze off her and instantly putting Daelia back into a relaxed state. Taking a deep breath, she allowed herself to follow Adam as he took down in the direction of a sleek car that was parked outside of the front of the school and well above the price range of any of the teachers who worked there. Daelia's guilt rise slightly. Her insistence that Adam spend the night through that riot destroyed his vehicle. Adam did not seemed as bother by it, but that did not alleviate the feeling it had been her fault-

"So…" Adam spoke up suddenly, nearly making her jump. "I was thinking you should take me somewhere where you enjoy. Somewhere that interests you."

It was Daelia's turn to blink at the suggestion.

"But I… but I like to be at home. H-home _is_ interesting…" she confessed in a small voice.

She watched as Adam rolled his eyes.

"That's a tempting offer, but off-limits," Adam spoke with a mild teasing tone in his voice. "I want to get to know Daelia'Vael. I want to see where in this city she likes to spend her time. We'll go grab some take-out or groceries and make a late afternoon out of it… what do you think?"

As Adam opened the passenger side door for her, Daelia thought over the suggestion. Slowly she allowed a small smile to cross over her mouth.

"I… well… actually that sounds enjoyable," she finally confessed as she took a seat.

**…**

* * *

**…**

Climbing out of her Land Rover, Emmi Skorzeny took a drag of her cigarette and placed her hand over her brow to shield her eyes from the bright sun over the outskirts of Damascus. Of all the places she could have been, why did she have to be inside Syria?

Of course she could go with her Mother for the official explanation; that in exchange for propping up the his power base, President Hafez al-Assad permitted a free hand for Aegis Group to operate unopposed inside the borders of Syria, so long as they did not turn the nation into a playground like the first incantation of Paladin Group did to Argentina in the mid 1940's. No one, not even Mother had wanted that.

Emmi had heard stories about the affair from mother during her teenaged years. Apparently Grandfather Otto became rather smitten with Evita Peron during a protection assignment when Paladin Group was in its infancy. Apparently the feelings had been mutual and the two begun a quiet affair. When Ernst Kaltenbrunner found out about it, he made a deal with Juan: End his marriage to Evita and Paladin Group would keep his Junta stable.

When one looked back with a clear history of Kaltenbrunner's ability of treachery, it should not have come as much of a shock that shortly after Grandfather Otto married Evita, Kaltenbrunner viciously slaughtered Juan Peron and installed a puppet government that answered to Otto and him. With that Paladin Group had a solid power base and could completely move its operations out of Europe and into the much more politically dependable South America.

Her thoughts were silenced as she went perfectly still as a dark blue van approached her sports utility vehicle at high speeds. Just to be on the safe side, Emmi stepped around to the passenger side seat and pulled out her quarian built RA-4 military grade retractable combat rifle. Flipping the safety mode and feeling the rifle extend inside her hands; Emmi stepped out from the safety of the truck and holding her rifle low, moved into the path of the van.

The van slowed down and came to a halt next to the Land Rover. The passenger side door opened and out stepped Mother, a faint smile on her face as she held down her sun hat to protect it from the gusting wind blowing over their heads. Emmi lowered and deactivated her rifle and approached her mother at a marching pace. She suppressed the urge to smile as she received a kiss on the cheek and arms which wrapped around her into a hug.

Holding the embrace for only a moment or two, Waltraut Skorzeny held her child out at arm's length, her expression reforming into a look of concern.

"Are you ready for this?" she asked her daughter softly. "It is okay to feel a little trepidation with what is about to unfold. There's no shame in that whatsoever considering you're new to this."

Smiling confidently, Emmi pulled herself out of her mother's embrace and shook her head.

"I am ready, Mother," Emmi firmly reassured her mother/boss. "I shall not fail you."

Mother nodded, accepting her daughter's word.

"I know that you won't, my love," she agreed with Emmi's confident statement. "Now as you are aware, we're operating under a tight schedule. Time management is the name of the game. How long do you believe your assignment will require?"

"I will need a week in order to be completely thorough," Emmi replied without as much as a pause to think it over. "I know that's asking a lot, but it will be time well spent. I promise."

The smile on Mother's face faltered slightly.

"I can give you three days maximum," Mother stated finally. "A week would have been reasonable had you decided to stick to a more… _traditional_ route for your assignment. I have no doubt your way will work, but it took three days to pull off."

It took all of Emmi's efforts not to pout at the rejection of her timetable. She was nineteen year old woman on the verge of leading her first operation. It was about time to swallow that childishness up, buckle down and accept that Mother was the one in charge. Her word was law and being her child was no longer going to influence her in the way it might have years prior.

So instead of pouting like a child, Emmi inclined her head respectfully. She would respect her orders no matter how much she may have disagreed with them. This crunch was not something she was quite so prepared for. It meant that she could not afford much in the way of a soft touch…

"Very well," she agreed, her voice forcing itself to be more confident then she was. "I shall redouble my efforts."

Feeling her Mother's lips touch each of her cheeks, Emmi watched as she stepped back and climbed into the idling Land Rover. With a final wave, Waltraut Skorzeny shifted out of neutral and sped off; leaving her daughter in a cloud of dust and sand and a realization how daunting the next three days would be for her.

"_Miss Skorzeny?"_ a voice called out from behind her. "We'll take you to the site when you're ready."

As the Land Rover became a spec on the horizon, Emmi turned around and found the three Aegis operatives standing there, awaiting her first official orders. This was it. Her first leadership assignment was now underway. Instead of giving an oral acknowledgement, she instead handed the closest man her rifle and nodded, following the men back to the van.

"Might I say it's an honour to finally have you with us," the lead operative spoke as he opened the side door of the van for her and turned around to strand at attention. "You had us running around quite a bit for the past two weeks. If you're even half of what Mrs. Skorzeny boasts…"

Emmi smiled and patted the Operative's shoulder kindly as she climbed into the vehicle.

"Oh, I assure you she's being modest about me," she reassured him, smirking as the men laughed and closed the door behind her.

**…**

* * *

**…**

Most people would want to lie on the sprawling lawns of the Tiergarten; others would visit the zoo, perhaps. Have a rest in the beer gardens and have a drink.

Suppressing a grunt as he climbed up the final flight of winding stairs to the top of Flakturm Tiergarten, it became very evident to Adam that Daelia wasn't like the others.

The imposing reinforced concrete anti-aircraft tower, long since abandoned was hardly the place he would ever expect Daelia to traverse whenever she had some free time. But here she was, smiling to herself as they worked their way through the musky decades abandoned structure, built by the Nazis to defend the government district from bomber formations. At least that had been the intention before the civil war broke out. The building was abandoned shortly after the quarians asserted total aerial and orbital domination over the entire planet. The building was still littered with rusting and thankfully exhausted shells.

As Daelia and Adam finally reached the top of the structure and the exit outside, he paused as he watched as Daelia touched a crater in the side of the wall. It was almost as though the gesture was common ritual for her to do. Her naturally neutral expression broke down into a sweet smile as she turned her head back to the silently observing human.

"I like to come up here," she confessed softly as she turned away. "The… The Tiergarten is too busy for me… far too busy. No one likes to come here because it's a reminder of a past everyone tries to suppress…"

"This place should be a shrine," Adam remarked as he followed Daelia outside of the tower and into the September sun. "This place saved thousands of civilians during the civil war… and how many countless more from the Allied bombing campaign."

Adam remembered his courses on the German Civil War when he was a new arrival to the Reich. As he recalled, Commandant Hermann Gehrke got tired of Heydrich's terror campaign, so he turned on his former leaders, filled every nook and cranny with women and children and turned his flak guns on everyone and everything potentially threatening to the tower and the people he defended. It got so bad for the loyalists simply had to ignore the place, and the Flakturm did not open its doors to the rebels until two weeks after the fighting concluded. In fact, he went so far as to turn all his guns on the quarian cruisers and dreadnaughts over Berlin –which while defiant and brave, must have made the quarians captains chuckle.

Daelia smiled fainted, she seemed to be in agreement.

"I know…" she said with a slight nod. "How quick we are to forget the small things that make a difference... disobeying orders to do the right thing. It seems like most of us just want to forget that era ever happened. I don't forget… I never forget."

As the two of them walked across the roof of the Flakturm, Daelia reached out and took his hand for a moment.

"Well, I'm glad that you seem to enjoy history," he replied as he ran his thumb over the top of her hand. "Sometimes I worry I made too many conversations about the past. The Third Reich isn't exactly what I'd consider normal date talk."

Pulling her hand back, Daelia shook her head.

"Nazis aren't a pleasant conversation…" she agreed. "But I like listening to you speak about anything, really."

Adam arched his brow at her, slightly confused by what she was saying.

"What I mean is, I don't meet many people I want to talk to, or get to know, or even listen to in an environment outside of work," she explained herself hastily. "Everything is such a big… blur whether I want it to be or not. But you… you make my mind slow down… in a good way, I mean!"

Bouncing on the tips of her toes slightly, Daelia trailed off and rubbed her face. Exhaling she turned away from him and left Adam to look over the side of the Flakturm and down to the many thousands of people moving through the Tiergarten. Just over the top of the Berlin skyline was a Dreadnought class vessel, moving at a slow speed over the city.

"Jesus, it's a beautiful view up here," he spoke out loud. He turned back and found that Daelia was sitting in the large moss patch and was pulling the food from out of the canvas bags.

"I'm happy that you like it…" she spoke as Adam took a seat next to her. "I was worried you'd laugh at me and make me go to the zoo... I hate the concept of zoos."

"Do you really think I'm so simple minded that I would make you go and visit the bloody Lions, Zebras and Tigers?" Adam managed to get out in between his wild explosion of laughter. "Daelia'Vael, I think you spend too much time around children!"

He watched as poor Daelia turned dark purple before his eyes. Her eyes were bulged out at the prospect. She seemed obvious to the humour spread thickly into his words. She looked utterly flabbergasted by the prospects that she had somehow implied he was stupid or easily entertained.

"What… no, of _course_ not!" she wildly defended herself. "I-… oh… you're _'egging me on'_. My sister is right… y-you think you're much funnier then you really are."

Adam chuckled at her suddenly moody reaction and grazed his hand against her cheek. Damn, it was fun getting her worked up.

The two of them relaxed into a state of satisfied quiet as they broke out the snacks they had picked up from the market. It gave Adam time to think about what John was speaking of earlier that day; about the value in honest with a woman like Daelia. While the will was there to be honest, the question of just how to start the conversation remained at the forefront of his thoughts. How exactly did tell a woman who he was interested in that he was a widower? It wasn't exactly a conversation he wanted to have, but saw no choice in the matter.

Even nearly three years after her death, Alexandria McKellan found a way to haunt him from beyond the grave. It was just so…. typical of her.

Then there was the Fatherhood thing. He supposed that would have to be a conversation which immediately followed the widower talk. Thankfully however it was a topic which could be abated for the moment. The conversation would have come out a lot sooner if Daelia showed a desire in seeing his place. Thank God she seemed to show very little interest in wanting to see how he lived so soon into their dating. Perhaps it wouldn't be hard for her to handle. Daelia seemed very resilient… or she was good at hiding her fear and discomfort and thus suppressed her displeasure at the new information.

If John was standing here, observing the conversation, Adam would have likely gotten a good cuff on the back of the head and a lecture about the doctor's constant desire to play things safe, to not take chances. Perhaps that was true. He used to carefree once upon a time. Fatherhood and a wife dying from an incurable motor neuron disease changed that. Perhaps it was time that he did put himself more out there –expose himself to a few risks.

Take a chance on Daelia'Vael…

She seemed like a genuinely good person. She had her own… quirks and limitations like he had, but she gave the impression that she was a good person. It was fear of rejection that held him back now. It was a fear he had to give up soon before it consum-

Without warning, without any sign, he watched a flash move right into his face, then for the briefest of seconds, lips touched against his rather roughly, teeth even nipped his skin. Shocked, Adam recoiled slightly and found Daelia, doing the same. She was wide eyed and seemingly troubled with what she did. Embarrassed, Daelia's hand slapped over her face.

She… kissed him. After weeks of seeing each other, she had finally jumped over her fears of intimacy and kissed him. Granted, it wasn't a particularly talented kiss which somehow featured sharp quarian teeth painfully rending his bottom lip, but it was a kiss nonetheless. Slightly dazed by the bravery, Adam rubbed the back of his neck.

"That… that could have happened better," she breathed a self-observation to him as she looked down into her lap. "Sorry if you weren't comfortable with that…"

Rubbing his lip for a moment, Adam reached out and raised Daelia's chin up.

"Do you want to try that again?" he asked her.

The only reply he got was a small, nervous nod from Daelia, who looked like she both wanted to explore the affection and run away as far as she could from it.

Gesturing her to join him, Adam crossed his legs together and took her hand, guiding her lithe body to take a seat on his lap. He could feel her body quivering as her frame pressed against his and his hand worked through the sides of her bangs. He felt her sharpened breath touch his neck as she slowly looked up and met him eye to eye.

As their lips met carefully this time, Adam pushed all thoughts of his confessions aside. If John was here now, he would probably understand why.

**…**

* * *

**…**

"Miss Skorzeny, welcome to the Dark Site. I trust the journey here was fine?"

"I have three days and a load of work ahead of me. I want to start right away. What is his condition? Is he lucid?"

"He was battered quite a bit in the pick-up, but otherwise he's fine. He's being kept hydrated and fed, as you had requested."

Nodding to the warden in acknowledgement he that he had done his duties to the letter, Emmi opened the door into the nearly completely darkened warehouse alone.

As soon as the door closed behind her, she stepped with purpose towards the man under the spotlight. His head rolled to one side. As she got closer and closer, she noticed little things about the man. Notably that he had pissed himself and judging from the muffled sound coming from his gagged mouth and the black bag covering his head, he was crying.

She reached down and yanked he black bag off his head. The movement revealed a bruised and battered North African man in his late thirties, his beard unkempt and his hair drenched in sweat. She watched as his pupils dilate in shock from her sudden appearance standing over him.

Taking off her aviators, Emmi held her blue eyes on the subject; she slowly tilted her head to one side as she inspected the human cattle sitting dopily in front of her. This was it. This was her very first interrogation. She had been waiting for this day since she was 12 years old and accidentally on purpose got to watch her Mother work over a couple of captured quarian agents. Ever since then she wanted nothing better than to do this sort of work.

"I'm afraid my Arabic is terrible, do you speak German?" she asked in her second language. "I know that you're a middle man, so I imagine it must be a language you have to be fluent in these days."

Gaining no reply from her prisoner, Emmi switched to her native tongue instead.

"How about English instead?"

The man looked up and met her stare. He looked close to having a total collapse.

"_W-who are you…_" the man breathed in unsteady English. Emmi remained silent, her eyes locked on the prisoner. One more outburst such as that and something would have to be done.

She turned her head back to the pitch black and nodded. In less than ten seconds flat, one of the guards stepped out of the shadows, carrying a chair for her. The prisoner held his wide eyes on the guard as though he was the real source of his fears. As the guard set the chair down across from the Prisoner, Emmi took a seat and retrieved her datapad, turning the machine to life.

"You are Sa'id Tehar Isswai," she read off the dossier she had collected. "Born April 12th, 1960, Fourth son of Sa'id and Malika Isswai in Al Karak, Jordan, but your family are refugees from the former Italian Libya. Angered by the quarian annexation of your native North African lands, you flocked to the call of the North African Brotherhood when you were 20, where you have worked as a weapons smuggler, operating primarily between Slovenia, Croatia and funnily enough Italy –basically up and down the entire Adriatic coast. This makes you an ally to the Fascist Union… or at least a collaborator."

Emmi paused and looked up to Sa'id Tehar Isswai. He looked as though he was going to be sick. Nineteen years working for terrorists, and not once did he think he would be noticed? His delusions were unbelievable.

"You know, considering the amount of hell Italy put Libya through, I'm surprised by this partnership of yours, when you take into account that they were your grandparents and parents oppressors at one point," she observed plainly. "Though I suppose there is sort of an _'enemy of my enemy'_ mentality going on; I can respect that. If there's one thing the quarians can do well, it's turning enemies into friends."

Sa'id dared to look Emmi straight in the eyes.

"Who… who are _you_!?" he demanded to know. His voice a lot more confident than it had been only moments prior.

"I'm the last person on the face of this planet you want to question," she warned him in a low growl. The anger burned away as she reached out and touched his cheek and added, "I'm here for answers, and you're going to oblige me, right? Because I don't like being denied what is rightfully mine."

The stroking of Sa'id's sweat drenched cheek stopped. Instead her hand slid slowly down the side of his face until she was touching his larynx.

"Before we begin, are you and I going to have a problem?" she innocently inquired of him as her hand wrapped around his throat. "I mean, you're a man, and I'm a woman… and I know full well what _you_ follow..."

Emmi fell silent as she continuously applied pressure around his throat, and then added her free hand to add even more pressure to her strangulation. She felt the choking smuggler struggle against her vice grip. She watched in curiosity as his eyes bulged out. She could not help but a certain amount of respect at Sa'id's body and mind were now locked into a total war for survival, to fight just for the mere hope of a mouthful of unimpeded oxygen.

If she wanted to, if she _really_ wanted too, she could have killed the man right then and there. But she didn't. This was just the first taste of her authority being exercised over him. All which she wanted right now was to hear this son-of-a-bitch beg for his life.

"_I… I don't have a problem with w-women!"_ he struggled to gasp out loud._ "I don't!"_

Holding her hands over his throat for only a moment longer, Emmi finally relaxed her grip and pulled back from him, allowing Sa'id a moment to gasp for his air. She clasped her hands together and stepped back from him once again. She could not help but laugh at his remark.

"That's what I thought!" she exclaimed happily as she turned away from him. "I had a long chat with your wife before this unpleasantness unfolded. She sung your praises. It's always good to see someone like you buck the stereotype! Good on you!"

Exhaling softly, Emmi idly wandered out of the spotlight and into the darkness. Her hands wrapped behind her back as she watched Sa'id struggle to look just where she was in the heavy shadow that was painted in the room.

"Now, considering just how much I know about you, I think that you deserve some background on me. It's the least I can do," she kindly addressed her victim from the shadows. "You see, I was raised to detect lies from a very young, young age -facial tics, pulse elevations, nothing gets by me. My parents trained me for combat, but I always had a rather peculiar… _affinity_ to watching my parents break a human being; not just their bodies, but their spirits, their minds. It's a _fascinating_ process to watch a strong human being reduced into nothing but breathing trash…"

"You might say that quite a lot of my life has been leading up to you," she went on. Her lips formed a grin as she added. "You're about to be my first time, but I'm not going to be gentle… lights!"

The lights in the facility lit up, revealing to Emmi and Sa'id a room covered in plastic from top to bottom. Sa'id let out a wailing cry as he looked at two dozen men, women and children –all blindfolded, all gagged, and all deafened. He had every right to freak out. Gathered around him was the entirety of his bloodline -from his children to his grandparents. Everyone he held dear to his heart was there to share in the experience he was to endure.

Emmi's mouth broke into a mild grin as she bent down and squatted in front of Sa'id, forcing him to look at her instead of his many loved ones. The man was quaking terribly in his seat. He looked like he was close to having a heart attack. Rightfully so, considering that his work had finally spilled into his personal life. Perhaps now the smuggler bastard was finally re-evaluating his choice in careers…

"This is... _well_… this is the result of several weeks of hard hunting on my associates' part, and a coordinated snatch and grab," she explained to the panicking smuggler. "This, as you can probably tell, is your entire family -from your wife and children, to your siblings and their family."

Emmi stood back up and planted her hand into his hair with a false affection. She could not help but relish as she witnessed the violent flinch at such a simple touch she had evoked in the man. This wasn't some innocent victim. This man was paid handsomely by a variety of sources to smuggle weapons and fighters into the Mandate and the Reich and as a result many people died. Emmi couldn't care less about the aliens, and double that for the Reich, but it gave a certain amount of justification for all of this.

Worst of all he was the one who smuggled in the Kaltenbrunner's –sworn enemies of the Skorzeny family since before she was born. That alone would be enough to warrant this... and Hoch's too, she supposed, though the concept of her Father being John Hoch still very much disgusted her ever since she met him.

"You see, if I as much as detect a lie, a hesitation, even so much as a quiver in your voice, I'm not going to hurt you… I'm going to hurt them," she informed the smuggler. "And it's not going to be something as easy as a waterboarding… _Guard_!"

The door opened yet again. This time the prison detail brought out a wheeled tray. On it were numerous cutting tools, from surgical scalpels all the way to hacksaws and axes. Emmi joined the guard and pulled on the large plastic apron over her chest and turned back to face the terrified Sa'id. As soon as she tied the apron strings, she slowly ran the tips of her fingers over the interrogation instruments delicately.

"I think that you would be quite surprised at just how much I can _clip_ off the human body and keep them alive and conscious," Emmi remarked as she glanced back to the heaving smuggler. "So we're going to start with an introductory display of just how much power I possess over you. You will get to choose just who I cut, what I cut off and eventually how I cut it off…"

Emmi's fingers paused their death dance over the tools. She glanced down to inspect the tool she would introduce Sa'id to her technique. Bolt cutters; perfect for finger dismemberment. One nice clean clip, a small amount of terror and agony on the part of the victim, and it was over. In some ways it was almost a mercy to him.

Lifting the heavy bolt cutter up for the man to inspect, Emmi stepped forward to Sa'id again and rested the cutter against his shoulder. She felt the man nearly jump in his seat, as though he was going to be her victim. Tsking at his fear, Emmi allowed her free hand to again graze his cheek in a manner a woman might have touched her beloved.

"Your wife's pinky finger, or your Father's pinky finger," she finally spoke to him. "One of them is losing a finger, so make your choice."

"W-what do you want to know?" he begged her. **"I'LL TELL YOU WHATEVER YOU NEED TO KNOW! Please! **_**PLEASE**_** DON'T HURT THEM!"**

Frustrated by the pleading, Emmi swung the end of the bolt cutter at Sa'id, smacking the man hard across his mouth. As the man's head lulled to one side, blood streaming from his lips, nose and his mouth, she stepped forward and placed the tip just underneath his chin. She watched in silence as Sa'id went dead silent as his wide frightened eyes left her with the impression that he was an abused animal.

"I'm not _looking _for answers this round, Sa'id," She snarled at him. "Aren't you paying attention? This is a display for your benefit. I'm not some Abwehr or CIA agent who's bound by a lot of rules and regulations as to how I can conduct this meeting of the minds. This is off the books; I get to do whatever the fuck I want, to whoever the fuck I want. And today it's your turn."

Nodding to the guards in the room, Emmi watched impassively as the two men dragged the chairs of both Sa'id's father as well as his struggling young wife. They were brought within six feet of the sobbing smuggler. Emmi pulled off the blindfolds off the two of them so that Sa'id could properly look at the sheer terror in their eyes.

"Make your decision; who do I mutilate first; your wife or your father?" Emmi repeated as she grazed the young woman's cheek. Emmi turned her head back to Sa'id and with an awful grin, added, "I'm going easy on you, Sa'id, I _really_ am. I could easily cut off your Father's foot, or your wife's hand as demonstration. A pinkie is trivial in comparison! So let's begin, shall we?"

**…**

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**…**

**Again, sorry for the delay. It's likely I'll be slow to update until the fall, but I will update regardless. I'm thinking about setting up an Uplifted community page on FF to keep updates and answer questions and all that fun stuff.**

**Also, it's high time I seriously lay out the playlist to John Hoch's musical soundtrack. You can start with 'Big Time' by Peter Gabriel, ahahaha.**

**Anyways, thanks for reading and patience!**


	10. The Truth is a Harsh Mistress

**Well… this took an embarrassingly long time to get out.**

**…**

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**…**

**Chapter Ten: The ****Truth is a Harsh Mistress**

…

Stepping out into the sun rising over Damascus, Syria, Emmi Skorzeny stretched and yawned, placing her avatars over her eyes as she stepped out towards the waiting trucks. From where she stood, she could make out her mother and her guard contingent waiting a good fifty or so metres outside of the interrogation compound she had emerged from.

She had been right. 72 hours was indeed pushing it, and it had left Emmi rather drained if she was being honest; but after the three days of cutting away at the people Sa'id Tehar Isswai's loved the most, it seemed to have done the trick. The smuggler turned over every piece of information he had to his interrogator -from the routes that the Kaltenbrunner siblings used to get into the Reich, to the money trail that connected them to the resurgent Paladin Group and the Fascist Union of Nations. The smoking gun that proved the Union had a hand in the attack.

Emmi was not so delusional to believe all of what he said. Her mother taught her better than to believe everything at face value. Sa'id was a low level piece of shit, but hidden in his words were bits and pieces truths that she now had to wash the blood off of them and organize into something more tangible. His fragments would lead them up the food chain to the people who would have more solid information.

Rubbing dried blood off the palms of her hands, Emmi paused and smiled at her Mother as she stepped forwards towards her child. She activated her omni-tool and transferred the video footage to her mother's device. That was that, Emmi Skorzeny had past her final test. She was now a full-fledged member of Aegis Group. Rather an anti-climatic moment, she had to admit, but it was little concern to her. What mattered was that she was in!

As mother accepted the data transfer, she glanced behind her daughter to inspect the family that had been marched out behind Emmi dispassionately. As though they were blight, not even worth the effort of acknowledging their common humanity. Emmi turned back and smiled blandly at the huddled, humiliated and near collapsed mass of human flesh standing there. Many of them had been brutally maimed by Emmi of the course of the three days. Not a single one of them had been spared from her attention.

"I told you I could do it," Emmi stated, failing to hide her own pride in her words.

Mother frowned - she actually frowned at her child! Emmi's triumphant expression and words must have rubbed her in the wrong way. It was not jealousy that was marked in mother's expression. It was that her child was not acting like the professional she was raised to act like. It was in these moments that Mother usually would turn away and mutter something like_ 'You're your Father's daughter' _or something outrageous along those lines.

And it always worked like clockwork. _Always_. Simply mentioning John Hoch was enough to motivate the young woman to act as she was raised to act. The mere suggestion that she had managed to inherit his attitude was a mortifying prospect… the disgusting degenerate as a father was still a mortifying concept. Men like him ought to have been sterilized.

"Your commitment to the assignment was never in doubt," was her mother's retort. She gestured to the witnesses behind her daughter and asked. "So, you got the truth, but now have two dozen or so witnesses which you mutilated to get what you wanted. Tell me, Emmi? What happens now?"

Emmi glanced at Sa'id carefully. Her attention shifted over to the gathering of his family. Yes, yes mother was right. These shambling walking dead would only serve as witnesses. Perhaps that was why mother was so reluctant to go through with her interrogation process.

Holding up her finger to pacify her mother, Emmi pulled one of the guard's rifles from his hands and turned away. Silently she walked towards the line of prisoners. She ignored the screaming of Sa'id and without a single iota of hesitation on her part squeezed the trigger and shot dead Sa'id's mutilated wife first. The back of her head exploded and she collapsed before Sa'id's horrified eyes.

The mourning screaming of the smuggler was ignored. Like a mechanical automation, Emmi walked up and down the line of restrained men, women and children, ending their lives as quickly as she could. As the last one fell –one of the children. Emmi turned the rifle back on the first one she shot and fired once again at the fallen bodies to make sure that none of them were still breathing.

Tossing the rifle back to the operative, Emmi stepped forward and pulled out her Kampfmesser 42 -a brutal little dual purposed combat knife bayonet that she had inherited from her Grandfather and approached Sa'id from behind. Sa'id remained obvious, he was far too busy screaming in Arabic and sobbing, clutching his dead children as though his touch could bring them back. He did not have a chance to turn around.

Emmi reached out and violent and violently pulled his head back by his hair. With one movement, she ran the blade over his throat, hacking through flesh and cartilage easily. The woman remained silent as she watched as Sa'id's eyes bulged out and looked up into her face accusingly. Emmi suppressed whatever guilt she might have felt for doing the right thing and forced herself to remain staring into his eyes. Considering what she had done to his family, he deserved at least that much respect from the likes of her.

As the dying man gurgled and silently screamed through his exposed trachea, Emmi finally had enough and kicked him on top of the pile of corpses, flicking the excess blood off her arm. Wiping the blood on her Kampfmesser on Sa'id's back, she sheathed the knife and turned back to her observant mother. Emmi took a breath and awaited her judgement.

The actions of her child did not faze her in the slightest.

Mother stepped forward, a cloth in her hand. She stopped in front of Emmi and grazed her blood stained face briefly. Emmi did not look at her. She remained transfixed by the pile of bodies she had created. The lives she ended… the future generations she had extinguished. Had this been the right course? Would it have been easier to simply torture Sa'id alone, made sure that he vanished off the face of the Earth and left his family off the hook?

"How about Milan for lunch and business," Mother finally addressed her child as she handed the cloth to Emmi. "You can get some sleep on the plane ride over."

Wrenching her eyes away from the line of corpses and instead turning back to face her mother properly, Emmi nodded. It was a moot point to debate the subject now. The deed was done, and the entire family wiped out.

It was better this way, she silently reasoned. If she refused to do it, they would have met their end at the hands of others inside Aegis in order to maintain silence. They would be dead regardless. And if she didn't do it, she would have gained a reputation for being compassionate whilst inside an organization that spared very little of that to anyone. She would be viewed as some sort of nepotistic hire, worthy of neither fear nor respect. One who came up with ideas but did not have the stomach to act them out by her hand and hers alone.

In some ways, Emmi supposed this action was her own twisted debutante of sorts. Now the men and women of Aegis Group would know that Emmi Skorzeny put in her own work. Could stomach whatever orders which needed to be carried out –no matter how horrifying they may be. Perhaps that was what she would have to take away from this. The death of the Isswai clan was the moment she stopped being simply an extension of her mother's hand and came into her own.

Perhaps that was her silver lining…Well, that and now she knew to keep her actions far less complicated -if only for the sake of her own health. Days of unending questions and mutilation were awfully exhausting…

**…**

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**…**

_Dear Mom, (Dad too if you're interested in forwarding this letter to him.)_

_I am sorry that I haven't been in correspondence with you as much as you would like; but it's not entirely my fault. There's a reason why I got you the computer setup and permission to access Localnet; so that you can be in touch rather than waiting on mail services. The set up I got you is not just some conversation piece to brag about. You would not believe the amount of hell I went through to get quarian based technology into an unfriendly country. I had to owe favours to John Hoch and he's not pleasant to owe a debt to. Not in the cruel sense, but he's rather annoying to owe a favour to._

_I have attached pretty much an entire album worth of photos of Amala as you asked in our previous correspondence. Again, I hope you were at least paying attention to the instructions I gave to access these sorts of packages. If not (and lets be frank, when was the last time you listened to anything I have tried to convey to you two) Andrew or Lena should know what to do. _

_I trust that you are doing well and same for Dad as well. My own work is going well, but obviously it's not something I can discuss. Suffice to say that it's going well, all things considered. Amala is in her first year of official schooling, and frankly it is a little unnerving to have free time once again, even if it's for six hours a day. _

_Last time we saw each other in person was after Alexandria's passing. I… wasn't well at the time. I wasn't well for quite a while before then as well. The situation between Alexandria and I was extraordinarily complicated. I only wish you had the chance to get to know her before she left. She was an amazing woman, really. Considering that I have somehow managed to even refer to her in a letter must mean something. I have started coming to terms with everything that happened._

_In all honesty, I met someone about a month ago. Things have been playing casually in some ways… and official in others. Her name is Daelia'Vael, and as you can probably infer, yes, she's quarian and no there's no changing my mind on her-_

Adam paused and frowned at the letter. Perhaps it was a little premature to discuss his dating life with his parents. And perhaps mentioning specifically Daelia's species sort of came off as presumptuous that Mom and Dad would not approve. They were –the last time he saw them- feel good liberals who could not understand his motivation to leave for the Reich. Political differences weren't a driving factor in his decision to leave the comfort of North America for the dynamic challenge that was the Reich. However it was a powerful divider which estranged him from his parents all these years.

With a sudden longing to be with Daelia sooner than their next scheduled meet up, Adam deleted the reference to dating, to Daelia. Adam smacked his head and gave it a good shake. He had to play it cool with her. Daelia wasn't the sort of clingy type, and neither did he fancy himself as one either. They would see each other on the weekend, so all he had to do was cool down.

_This weekend_… what a nerve racking thing to think about, really... It was finally time in his head; time to confess his situation to her. He wanted nothing better than to get it out of the way when Daelia took him to the Tiergarten, but Daelia's insistence to learn how to kiss that day more or less blanked his mind out. Now that that was out of the way, he had no more excuses… unless she suddenly decided she wanted to have sex.

Adam could not help but laugh out loud at the thought. Daelia would likely have an aneurysm if she ever attempted to proposition him for sex, and if she did it would be he who would have had the aneurysm out of sheer shock

Unable to wash his mind of her, Adam turned his focus back to his letter.

_-Well, anyways I have to get going to work. I miss the two of you and everyone else. I might be able to get you guys a temporary visitation rights to the Reich for Christmas if you want to see what the Fatherland looks like. If not then I'll see about getting a pass to leave the Reich and visit you guys. Whatever the case, I hope you will write back; and I'll give Andrew and Lena a call if you don't reply sometime soon._

_With love,_

_Adam._

Leaning backwards into his seat and glancing at the clock on the wall, Adam sighed as he sent the letter to his mother. Daelia would be getting back to her place inside the hour. That would be plenty of time to pick up Amala, drop her off with Erika Hoch and head on over to Daelia's for… well… as long as it would take to explain things.

The pang he used to get long ago before the fiasco that was his marriage to Alexandria had returned to him and now it came from merely thinking about Daelia'Vael. Yes, it was time to clarify things with her. There was a lot that she needed to understand about him. She certainly deserved that much respect from him. And when it came down to it, perhaps it would be better this way. Better to get it out in the open now before they started making serious commitments to each other.

With a potential collapse in a fledgling relationship on the horizon, Adam could not help but feel sick to his stomach as he collected his car keys and jacket. Never before had telling the truth been so goddamn terrifying a prospect.

**…**

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**…**

"_Oberfähnrich von Hoch, report to main offices, Vizeadmiral Von Edelmann's orders."_

That was all it took for Charlotte von Hoch to drop everything: from her lunch, her datapads, even her personal conversations with Selene Auffarth. Absolutely everything was tossed to one side. This was what she spent the past few weeks since the Rostov Exercise for. This was what Vizeadmiral Von Edelmann had promised her -something to make up for the interruption in her practical command practice. Perhaps Von Edelmann had bumped her up to the top of the list for the _RSF-Lahn_.

The _RSF-Lahn_ was another practice ship, but it was listed on the active duty roster as a light scout vessel. No more than one hundred metres in length and a crew of thirty plus the lead instructor it was a ship that was captained by officer candidates and crewed by in-training enlisted service personnel. The vessel usually patrolled the Charon relay, assisting in the 50 years of militarization of space between the Charon Mass Relay to Uranus –from automated guns to magnetic IFF based minefields. All of this preparation was with two enemies in mind: the geth and the turians, if something went wrong and the Charon Relay was crossed by either criminal races.

As excited as she may have been, Charlotte did squash her expectations as her Father taught her to do. Ultimately she would be happy with whichever assignment her Vizeadmiral would assign her. A little put off, perhaps, but she would have enthusiasm in her duties. She was, of course, nothing like her brother Joachim whom she loved very much but could see he had no need the loyalty to the Reich as he should have had. He was endangering everything their Father worked so hard to achieve. The Hoch's were now more than a family with unpunished National Socialists origins with an opportunistic Industrialist in the family.

Taking off her cap as she stepped into administration offices, Charlotte stood at attention and took a carefully drawn breath. Any excitement was now officially erased as she regarded Vizeadmiral Von Edelmann's staff officers. None of them seemed particularly pleased to see her. This was not exactly new. The men and women of the Raumstreitflotte took their ancestral cues from the Kriegsmarine, and the Kriegsmarine hated the Heer and National Socialists terribly in the Third Reich. Charlotte von Hoch came from a family that served the Heer and once upon a time the Waffen-SS. It was never forgotten.

As such instructors tended to give her a rather hard time compared to other recruits. Charlotte did not mind, and if she did she would dare not mention it out loud to anyone. The last thing she wanted to be seen was a girl who ran straight to her Generalmajor Father for his help. As this seemed to be the case, Vizeadmiral Von Edelmann seemed to have taken note of it. The instructors and personnel were relaxing with regards to her, but she would likely have to make Großadmiral before they started to respect her like they did the other candidates.

_"You may enter his offices, Oberfähnrich,_" she heard one of the officers' call out to her.

Charlotte inclined her head in acknowledgment, turned her self-confidence levels up to eleven and strode sharply in through the offices of the Commandant. She paused only to shut the door behind her and stepped forward to the two men in a brisk, Khelish based conversation. Khelish being a second language in a mixed species family like the Hoch's, it seemed to be time for her to actually take the opportunity and learn it. If she could do so with English, then she could make the time for the language of her cousin species.

"Oberfähnrich von Hoch, reporting as requested, Herr Vizeadmiral," she snapped into a state of attention for the Junkerschule Commandant.

Turning away from the quarian next to him, Vizeadmiral Konrad von Edelmann's stern expression was redirected from the quarian to Charlotte, who somehow managed to stiffen even tighter under the sharp eyes of the Admiral. After what felt like two to three minutes of tension compressed into a singular moment, the Vizeadmiral stepped forward and placed himself directly in front of his student.

"Oberfähnrich von Hoch, if I recall our last meeting correctly, I told you I would find you an assignment to make up for cutting into your Rostov Operation run," Admiral finally addressed the officer candidate. "I think I have found the perfect apology."

Waving his hand back to the quarian captain standing behind him, the quarian stepped forward. Charlotte's eyes widened for just a second and immediately narrowed once again as her breath was caught up in her throat; she was not going to freak out she was so _not_ going to freak out.

"Charlotte von Hoch, I would like to introduce you to Captain Maron'Raan," the Vizeadmiral introduced, his gruff tone almost amused. "He is the ship captain of the _RN-Vengeance of Rannoch_."

Vizeadmiral Von Edelmann did not need to introduce the Captain to Charlotte. She knew all there was to know about Captain Maron'Raan of the _Vengeance of Rannoch_ to her. Considered the quarian Erwin Rommel of Ship Captain's, the man practically rewrote the book in duties of ship captaincy. And here he was, standing in front of her. Looking right at her like she existed in his world!

It took all of Charlotte's efforts not to openly gush like some sort of fan girl. She clenched her hands into fists and steadied herself once again. Vizeadmiral Von Edelmann turned in place and exchanged salutes with the captain and moved by the two of them, leaving his office to the two of them. Charlotte remained still as she watched as the Captain took a seat once again and gestured to the seat next to him.

"Herr Captain, it's an honour to meet you," Charlotte broke the silence first, cursing herself for sounding so breathless. "I read your trio of dissertations on the turian naval tactics post krogan rebellion when I was 15. They were such a thrilling read. It inspired a change in my future plans."

Captain Raan chuckled softly at her remark, but it was the dead truth as her own Father could attest to. He had been grooming Charlotte for military service as a Heer officer, when Charlotte stumbled into literature on officer accounts of space faring services. Maron'Raan's depiction of the Battle of Palaven was the straw that broke the camel's back for her. She could no longer see herself command men in the dirt, grime and blood of the battlefield. The depth of space was her calling now.

"Well _I'm_ honoured that I convinced a Hoch to step out of the comfortable Heer path and into a new service branch," the Captain returned, an amused grin on his face. "I was privileged enough to witness your run on the Rostov Operation. You made an interesting show of leadership. To be honest, you reminded me of the story of the late Captain Nailia'Zorah's final stand on the cruiser _Balathau_. She saved many lives on the final day of the second offensive against the geth at the cost of her own."

Charlotte bowed her head in a display of humility at the statement the famed ship captain was making. Inwardly she was elated that such a distinguished officer felt she had the spark of a legend in her. Just as it had been her Father's work which repaired the family name, it would be her work that would further increase the reputation of the family.

"I'm humbled you feel I have an inkling of her steadfastness," she finally replied, not meeting his eyes. "She was an unbelievably brave woman; a personal hero, even."

There was a long silence. Maron'Raan held his eyes on the student, studiously examining her.

"It was not as much of a compliment as you think it may be," Captain Raan replied. "I don't believe in the waste of a talented captain; as many lives as her sacrifice might have saved, she could have saved even more –especially if she had the ability to. A Captain in the Navy must always think in the long term."

Any and all of Charlotte's deference vanish in an instant as she jerked her head back up to face him. She could not believe what she was hearing out of him of all people!

If she had been a little more prudent, Charlotte von Hoch would have been like her Father and knew when to hold her tongue -after all, a good German officer candidate knew when not to speak out of turn with her superior- but the Stauffenberg blood in her had flared up and it was demanding her to stand up in the face of opposition to what she felt was right.

"With all due respect, hindsight is 20/20," Charlotte pointed out defiantly with little to no regard for the ramification of contradicting a superior officer. "She didn't have 80 years of objective battle analysis. She was caught up in the moment and instead of freezing, she saved hundreds of lives. She did not allow herself a moment of fear to overtake her. There is nothing more courageous then that…"

Charlotte trailed off and held both her tongue and her eyes on the blank expression on Captain Raan's face. She did not mean to lecture him… not as she did, anyways. She just always had a strong urge to defend the dead from those who did not have to endure what they endured. Sure, perhaps Raan was right and her survival could have helped her people in the long run; but what was done was done.

"I am glad you said that," was Raan's response to her words, his tone almost joyful. "Although I really should have expected that when one considers your bloodline."

The officer candidate blinked at the sudden praise offered up by the Captain. What in the hell was going on? Under any other circumstances, her ass would be in a sling for her outburst. Still smiling slightly at what she had stated, Captain Raan once again gestured to seat next to him. This time Charlotte immediately took it.

She watched as Captain Raan crossed one leg over the other. His eyes continued to silently inspect her even at rest.

"You would probably not be very surprised that it is difficult to find a German naval officer trainee who would be willing to speak out against what a superior officer has to say –especially a quarian naval officer. Deference to superiors and those with more experience is engrained into the German consciousness now," Raan spoke to the young student, leaning over the Vizeadmiral's table to pour two glasses of water. "A good naval officer operating in the depths of space must be prepared to work against the directed orders of their planetary based superior officers. The German navy, whether ocean based or space has always seemed to have this difficulty; and considering the whole first phase of the war against the geth hinges on the young Raumstreitflotte, it is a matter of concern for the Mandate Naval Force."

Setting the pitcher down, Captain Raan extended a glass out to Charlotte, who took it from him, but did not drink right away. She reverted back to the state which Captain Raan did not seem to be a fan of –total deference to the superior officer. It wasn't until he sipped his drink when she did the same.

"As that timid nature of the Raumstreitflotte has presented itself, Naval High Command has decided to enact Training Operation 415 – All quarian ship commanders between the ranks of Commander to Captain are to take on individual human apprentices for a period of no less than a year, and I have selected you as my first choice."

For a fraction of a second, it felt as though Charlotte's heart stopped in her chest. She could not believe what she was hearing, what this renown Captain was offering to _her_ of all people. Never since her first days of Junkerschule had she believed this was where her path was leading her to.

"-If you choose to accept the position, you will finish your duration of academy training on-board the _RN-Vengeance of Rannoch_ where you will be granted an acting Leutnant commission," she could faintly make out Captain Raan's elaboration through her haze of overjoy. "Once I feel you are ready, you will be granted a command positon on-board my ship. Then, when your apprenticeship is complete, I will sign off to whichever posting you may be interested in taking in the Raumstreitflotte-"

"I accept!" she nearly screamed out, flying from her seat to stand up straight.

As Maron'Raan blinked, Charlotte's face went blood red from the surge of cringe and embarrassment in her behaviours. Years of discipline that had been regimented into her long before she stepped on-board her first warship, years of her father's relatively strict upbringing, all of it thrown clean out the window in a fraction of a second. How foolish she was behaving! She should be sent to the before the administration for disciplinary punishment for her outburst.

Before she could make the suggestion to the Captain, Raan instead chuckled and held up his hand.

"Stand fast, Oberfähnrich, please," he requested of her warmly as he stood up as well. "This assignment is not going to be a light one on a student. We'll be travelling through the relay to the Point Jump – fifty eight thousand light years away from Earth - the farthest point quariankind has been in 60 years and for humanity... ever. There we will patrol the sector with no outside communication whatsoever and make sure the zone remains undisturbed until we are relieved…"

Raan trailed off and arched his brow at her.

"This zone has been known to be frequented by smugglers, slavers and pirates. There will be live fire naval engagements. People will die," the Captain warned her sternly. "It is only fair to tell you this before you accept it on the spot. You are, after all, still a student. Are you sure you still want this assignment?"

Charlotte stifled the desire to laugh. As if he really needed to give the disclaimer to _her_ of all people. She was practically salivating at the concept of serving in a live fire operation against an enemy.

"Herr Captain, any opportunity to help punish the criminal races – be they turian, asari or batarians is a chance I am willing to risk happily," the young woman breathed to her new Captain with a wide eyed fanaticism, once seen in only the most devoted of Hitlerjugend.

Yes, her hatred of every species that harmed and belittled what remained of the quarian people before they contacted humanity was a deep-seated one. She believed in _Vergeltungskrieg_ with every fibre of her being. Perhaps not a total war, but to punish one species at a time would sate Charlotte's lust for vengeance against the criminal races. Whatever happened, all she knew for certain was that they all needed to pay.

Captain Raan stepped forward and rested his hand on his new student's arm.

"Then welcome aboard the _Vengeance of Rannoch_, Leutnant," the Captain congratulated her. "I'll have your transfer papers ready inside the hour. Gather your things, say your farewells to your classmates and meet me at shuttle bay 7."

As the two of them shook hands, a sudden reminder of a promise she made her father overwhelmed Charlotte's senses.

"Am I permitted to inform my father about this, or is would this operation be considered strictly need to know?" she inquired as she dropped her hand and wrapped them both behind her back. "Perhaps you might consider me little sentimental, but I told him I would make him aware of my first posting."

She watched as Captain Raan frowned –actually frowned at the request. Suddenly Charlotte had a bad feeling.

"Under most circumstances I would ask you to refrain," he reluctantly spoke. "but considering your father's position in the Heer, I will make an exception if you want one."

Charlotte instantly erased any glory of triumphantly informing her father of her posting. She was not about to demand special exceptions from her Captain before her assignment even started. It would be everything her father taught her not to do. She needed to prove herself and her worth before she was even _allowed_ to consider it.

"With all due respect, Herr Captain, I do not want special treatment simply because of my name. I am merely interested in knowing if it would be permissible to public state my first duty," Charlotte voiced out her sudden shift in mood to her new CO. "If under any other circumstances I would not be permitted to do it, then I shall adhere to that. I shall keep this posting quiet until the operation is reclassified as public."

Once again Maron'Raan blinked, but the frown vanished. He seemed somewhat… impressed by her commitment.

Good. That was a good thing.

"Very well then, the mission is deemed classified by Mandate Naval High Command," Captain Raan dryly returned. "The divulgence of it is a capital punishment… or a stern talking to. I'm not sure which it is, or which would be the worse punishment to be honest… quarians love to talk, talk, talk. At least you don't have to listen to them when you're swinging from the gallows. Now… is this more to your liking, Leutnant?"

Nodding with a slight grin at his sarcastic threat, the soon-to-be minted Leutnant stepped back and snapped out a crisp salute for her Captain and as soon as it was returned, she turned away and strode out of the room. It took all of her efforts to not prance and break out into a strut as she blew by the administration, who hated her solely based on her surname.

But she could care less about what they thought about her at this point. She was an active duty sailor now! A Hoch was serving on one of the twelve flagships of the quarian war machine! How great was that?!

**…**

* * *

**…**

Stepping out of her cab, Daelia'Vael paid the man without looking. Her focus was solely devoted to the rather strange sight that was standing in front of her.

Standing out front of the high rise was none other than Adam Ackerson. In his hands was a small cardboard coffee tray with two drinks resting inside. His expression seemed rather… strained and contrary. On one hand he seemed happy to see her. On the other he looked rather terrified to see her. It was most peculiar she had to admit. Peculiar and somewhat… cute… if that was the right definition for she was seeing. A grown man reduced to a stance not much different then one of her students… was cute?

Daelia inwardly marked the memory as something she would have to ask Nytalia about. As much as Daelia did not want to resort to asking her sibling about matters pertaining to Adam Ackerson, she did have to admit her sister would have known better than her about these sorts of things. It meant that discussions about her personal life with her were about to become more frequent and significantly more personal...

Still, Daelia could not felt but be confused by his sudden appearance. It was not like she did not want to see him, quite the contrary. It was just that the two of them had agreed that they keep their relationship as scheduled as possible. They were both busy people; it was better that way. It was primarily at her insistence this was the case. For her it meant she would have days to prepare for her meeting with Adam. She could plan out things to converse about, practice her ability to small talk which Adam just loved to do. So that she could be interesting for him to be around.

There was a lot of effort went into her attempts to remain interesting…

"Adam?" Daelia called out to him, trying her best to keep her tone from being chastising. "This… this is a surprise. What… what are you doing out here?"

There was no response from him. Not at first. Whatever the case as she approached him, she could smell the familiar sweet scent of Kalva tea which clashed the touch of citrus and sugar wafting from the hot coffee cup. It seemed as though Adam had been paying attention to her orders whenever they went out for tea and coffee. That was a rather strange prospect to her –that someone else took the time to learn the things she enjoyed and it wasn't Nytalia or the Zorah's…

Taking the cup out of the tray, Daelia paused before she took her first sip. Silently she re-examined Adam and leaned forward, carefully pressing her lips against his. Kissing Adam was still a rather daring thing to her. As she felt him return the affection, she unconsciously bounced on the tips of her toes as she gripped his coat with one free hand. Inwardly she screamed for being so strange. She would have to give herself a verbal dressing down once Adam was gone…

"I'm sorry for showing up unannounced," Adam finally spoke up as he pulled back from, his free hand touching her fringe. "There are just a few things I wanted to talk to you about. I… well; I feel comfortable enough to talk to you about it. I wanted to get it all out in the open before I had a chance to... you know…"

"Push it away."

Adam looked up at her as she uttered her surmising of his instinct. He nodded plainly as he swallowed a mouthful of his own tea. Daelia could not help but feel leery about just where this unexpected conversation was coming from. Her eyes flickered towards the doors of the high rise. All she wanted to do was to flee inside before things turned wrong.

"Exactly," he spoke; almost relieved she seemed to understand what he was saying. "I don't know how much longer I can keep up this display of confidence, so I need to talk about… what's on my mind…"

_What's on his mind…?_ Well that settled it. Daelia was official freaking out now. Her heart was pounding in her chest as dozens of scenarios ran through her mind. The worst one was the most obvious one: he now knew about her condition and was going to break up with her over it. Before she knew it she emitted a nervous little half chuckle and wandered her way towards the front doors.

If there was going to be a break up then she wanted as little space between the safety of home and him as possible...

"Look, before we met up… when we went to the Tiergarten, I ended up in a strange conversation about the virtues of honesty with John Hoch of all people," Adam informed her as he followed her up the stairs towards the doors of the high rise. "Although as much as I loath to admit it, he was right about it; so I have a confession to make-"

"That you aren't as funny as you thought you are?" Daelia suddenly blurted out.

She did not know what possessed her to say such a ghastly thing out loud as she had. Perhaps a moment of daring caught her off guard. She was on the verge of collapsing and apologizing when Adam burst into what seemed to have been appreciative laughter. Daelia's body remained quaking, her free hand in a tight fist. The laughter could have meant anything, and so she was not about to let her guard down so quickly.

The smile on Adam's face slowly vanished. Biting his lip, he reached out and took Daelia's tightened fist into his own hand, his fingers grazed against her knuckles until they relaxed enough to grip his hands back. He exhaled as he huffed out a small nervous laugh. This time, Daelia joined him.

"Daelia, I was _married_."

In a fraction of a second, any good cheer she felt for not only making a comment that was considered somewhat witty, but managing to make Adam laugh at the same time vanished right before her eyes. Daelia went numb as she stared blankly into his eyes. Adam was a married man? Is? No... That wasn't right. It had to have been a joke. One of those awful jokes he made…

But the way Adam looked at her was all… wrong. There was no humour in his expression. He was waiting for an answer from her. As if she was capable of condoning what he had told her. She felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach –or so the saying went. She did not feel right. She felt off, dizzy, sick…

"You're married…" she repeated finally, her words dull as she stared at him with her widened eyes. "That…I… I-I was not expecting that."

For a moment, Adam's eyes widened as well. He emitted a small laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck. She could not believe that he was laughing. It hardly seemed appropriate.

"Was married…Keyword being _'was'_, Daelia," Adam corrected her immediately. "I _was_ married before I knew you."

Daelia blinked at the clarification Adam was trying to make. _Was…? WAS…_and now that was such a better thing to hear. It took the guilt of being in an adulterous relationship off her mind. She could not believe that she had been so undeniably foolish as to believe that had been the case. She felt the wave of relief wash over her. So Adam was married to someone else. A marriage collapse was a terrible thing to endure. Considering that Adam had a long standing history with divorce… now.

As good as it may have felt to know that she was no longer committing a sin or sleight against another woman, she suddenly found herself almost equally upset again. Here stood a good man whom she had accused of being unfaithful when that was not the case. She should have listened better. As usual she picked and choose the words she wanted to hear. Stupid… stupid woman…

"Oh, right," Daelia spoke, staring at his hands, flustered as blood pooled into her cheeks... "I'm sorry to hear that… divorce is a terrible thing to endure… or so I've heard. Is she a-aware that you're… well… seeing someone?"

She watched as Adam winced at the question she asked. It was perfectly reasonable one. The last thing Daelia wanted to deal with was an ex who might have felt to be entitled to interfere into his private affairs simply because they were together at one point. She needed to be ready for whatever the other woman might throw at her.

"Daelia…" Adam spoke disbelievingly. "I didn't get _divorced_, either."

Daelia blinked and tilted her head. What… what was this new game of his? It was starting to get on her nerves now.

Once again Adam returned to his pronounced, awkward silence, leaving Daelia to piece together just whatever it was he was trying to convey to her. He just stood there, his hand still on the door as he stared deeply into her eyes. As the silence was maintained between the two of them, Adam's mouth quirked slightly; he seemed to have been exacerbated by her lack of response.

She watched in silence as Adam emitted a low sigh and slumped down against the door. Daelia glanced at the door man on the other side of the glass watching the scene unfold carefully. She turned back to face him. What did he expect out of her, for her to guess his situation and be wrong? She wasn't about to humiliate herself anymore then she already had!

"I'm a widower, Daelia," was Adam's awkwardly spoken explanation. "I've been one for the past three years now."

This time Daelia paid attention. This time she gasped slightly as she looked down to Adam, who looked away. His expression was still a strange little smile. Like losing a loved one was nothing to him. She dared not comment on it though. Perhaps he was like Nytalia in a way. They both managed to move on from the loss they endured. Not like her.

The loss… well it explained quite a bit about him. Why he came off as so lonely. It was because that was more or less the case for him. He _was_ alone. With nothing but the company of his employer and his patients, it was little wonder why she felt some sort of… well… connection to him. They were just two outsiders, who stumbled into each other and were attempting to make the best of it…

"How did she die?" she piped up finally.

Daelia's hand smacked over her mouth as her eyes grew wide. Of all the things she could have said, she chose the single worst one she could imagine.

Adam looked up at her query. He did not seem bothered in the slightest as he gave her his examination. She wondered if it was the physician coolness that kept his reaction under control, or he was at terms with the loss that the question no longer fazed him. Three years was a relatively long time to grieve and process for someone like him.

"Her name was Alexandria, and she died of complications caused by end of life amyotrophic lateral sclerosis." he told her. He paused as he noticed the confused expression on her face "…ALS…are you aware of it?"

Daelia squinted slightly. If she was being honest, no she was not particularly well-versed in the wide array of human ailments and conditions. She knew the big ones, obviously and the epidemics which were reported on the news… but ALS wasn't exactly one of them. She felt a strong tinge of guilt for being unaware of the condition as Adam nodded.

"She was sick. She was sick longer than I even knew her for really," Adam went on as he held his eyes on her, clearly noticing that she was not aware of the condition. "ALS is a rather slow burning motor neuron disease –it kills nerve cells…. starts with muscle weakness, progresses to total immobilization and speech difficulties… and it ends with losing the ability to breath on your own."

Adam paused as he tipped his tea, leaving Daelia stewing in the terrifying discovery she had just made. It sounded like easily the single most awful way to leave life…

"She must have had it for a while… suppressed the symptoms, somehow," he hypothesized out loud to himself. "I didn't know when I met her. She only told me long after the fact, after I saw her have her first accident…. then she left."

As Adam turned away once more, Daelia remembered her need to remain as objective as she could. She did not want to be reduced into a blubbering mess just because she was hearing his situation for the first time. Shifting to one side of him, Daelia sat down next to on the step. She slowly, nervously reached outwards and took his hand.

Adam flinched, not so much out of fear or shock. It was more unexpected. As soon as the surprise vanished, his weak smile returned.

"She died?" Daelia asked him, her voice lowering as she carefully examined the man. Adam looked her in the eye. His expression became rather forlorn. He shook his head.

"No… well, she _did_ die, but Alexandria didn't die right then. She literally left me three years before she died," was his rueful response, his pitiful smile even weaker. "She decided unilaterally that she did not want me taking care of her like she was a terminal case –which she was. She decided she wanted to spend her last years working in isolation –finding a cure, as if she had the time for that. She _ahhh_… she convinced John Hoch to send her to the Hades Medical Research Facility in the Alpha Proxima sector."

John Hoch… of course he had to have been involved in this somehow. Of all the things that man was, what would possess him to help a dying woman from staying with her husband for _years_? Daelia was not exactly the most sound of mind, but even to her that sounded so fundamentally wrong.

And yet from what she surmised on his life, Adam _still _accepted a job offer from John Hoch. What would drive Adam to take that from a man who more or less hid his wife from him! If she had been in his place, she would have very well went into a catatonic state.

"She didn't have to do it. She had a whole staff, you know? She was a _brilliant_ woman with one serious flaw: pride… and genuine sense that I should be coddled like a child," Adam pressed on, his voice distant as Daelia clutched his hand. "I could have taken care of her, I _should_ have taken care of her… but she was convinced I was unable to do it. I don't know, no matter how much she tried to deny it, she was essentially John Hoch with more manners-"

"How could Hoch do such a thing?" she suddenly demanded out loud, a low growl in her tone as she cut him off. "Why would he keep her from you like that?"

The growl was unexpected, surprising. Her natural repugnant response to what she had heard made Adam's mouth quirked into a stronger smile as he pushed his head forward towards her and pressed his lips against her cheek. Gathering her nerves, Daelia leaned against him, her heart pounding as she attempted her first cuddling of another person outside of her family. One hand wrapped around him. She tensed up as she felt Adam return the affection. His was far less restrained as hers however.

"I wish I knew why for certain," he confessed to her, his chin resting on the top of her head. "I guess John Hoch had… a _connection_ to Alexandria. He was like a brother she never had and in return, she was his challenger, his muse, even his intellectual superior in many ways. She was the one person he was ever unable to pull the wool over the eyes. She kept his ambitions in check, and always directed towards the greater good. The anti-HIV/AIDS prevention program in the eighties was her brain child, she challenged him to release the patents on pharmaceuticals and vaccines, which would have made him wealthier then he already is, for free to foreign medical companies. She built the compassionate image he projects to the world."

He paused for a moment, his fingers grazing against her knuckles.

"John is not afraid to break a promise, not to a stranger, not to me, not even to his own family. He's a ruthless charmer who doesn't mind a bit of dirt on his name," he informed her plainly. "But for Alexandria…well, I think she's the only person in the world whom he'd keep his word to, even after she was gone. Honestly, I've given up trying to figure out his motives."

"She sounds like an amazing person…" she spoke up in his silence. "Anyone who could keep someone like John Hoch in check like that must be."

Adam did not reply to the compliment she offered. From the way he looked, he did not seem to share the same sort of sentiment that she had expressed to him. Honestly… it was how she felt though. Whoever this Alexandria woman was, she sounded like a strong –if flawed- voice of reason. Daelia liked that in a person.

Perhaps Adam might have been able to move on from the loss, but there seemed a bitterness that seemed to shadow him. Daelia exhaled and gathered her own nerves yet again… perhaps it was time for a confession of her own. He had been rather open with her. It seemed unfair that she remained distant about her own issues.

She supposed it was all just a matter of finding the right words to use.

"Nytalia is the only blood family I have," Daelia suddenly blurted out to the human. "The rest were blown up by anti-quarian extremists. We were adopted into the Zorah clan when we were children."

_Dammit._

Without warning, Adam jerked back from her, making Daelia nearly leap up from him. She watched as the misty remembrance of his former spouse was wiped clean off of Adam's face. His expression shifted into one of total horror at her confession. Daelia winced as she reviewed her own words. Perhaps they were a little crude in their description.

But that was how it happened. They blew up; almost all of them. There was no sense in sugar coating the truth and she was not nearly as skilled as dancing around an uncomfortable subject as Adam had been with his passed on wife. It was better to just be blunt about it.

"Jesus Christ… I mean… wow…" Adam stuttered out, clearly muddled by what Daelia had told him, "I'm so sorry to hear that."

Daelia remained silent as she forced herself back on her feet. Her hand cleaned her trousers briefly before she lowered it to Adam. Still he continued to look up at her in stupid shock. It might have been the first time she had ever witnessed him be so utterly dumbfounded by something. She supposed she could take a small measure of victory in that. Usually it was the other way around.

"Come inside with me," she requested her voice empty as she gestured to the doors. "If we're getting to know each other, we might as well exchange honesty with honesty."

Adam nodded and took her hand, following her inside.

**…**

* * *

**…**

As Adam sat on Daelia's couch as she wandered off to the kitchen without saying anything, he could not help but feel a great burden had been lifted off his chest. One truth was out in the open now. Daelia was now aware of Alexandria, and for the most part she seemed to be… fine with it.

Of course he had no way to know if that was how she really felt. Daelia –in his opinion- was a woman dedicated to bottling up just how she felt about uncomfortable things. It would take some time before he really knew just where she stood on the matter. He could not exactly blame her for being troubled by it though, she was half a decade younger than he, and she might have been at a different stage of life.

Perhaps the last thing she wanted right now was to dedicate a large portion of her life and focus to a man who had already built a family. This thought made telling the next part of his truth to her that much more difficult.

It also did not help that Daelia had told him that her family had been ruthlessly slaughtered before her eyes while. He could not imagine the terror and trauma which both Daelia and Nytalia had went through at such young ages. He had nothing in his mind that came close to a proper consolation for had happened. Why Daelia hadn't slapped him for his stupid half apology he made earlier. He supposed he would chalk that up to her having the patience of a saint with him.

This revelation explained quite a bit about her. If she had what he presumed what she had, then the mental disorder combined with the trauma was permanently etched into her. It explained the vast difference between Galina Hoch, who was cool and impersonal, and Daelia, who was frequently scattered in a hundred directions. But however fragile she might have seemed, she always did her best to overcome whatever she was overanxious about. It was a determination that Adam found incredibly charming and attractive.

It was that determination that kept alive Adam's flickering hope that their relationship could survive what would happen next. She might be bothered by the concept, but she might also try to work around it…

As nice as optimism might have been, he still had to be ready to expect the worst response she could give: flat out rejection. As much as it was nice to believe that what they had would be strong enough to overcome what was to come, he had to be realistic about the prospects of this relationship's survival. Most importantly of all, Amala had to come first. Even if it meant breaking off the first relationship Adam had outside of the Hoch family in years. Amala was paramount.

Adam's thoughts were interrupted as Daelia came out of the kitchen with a glass tray. A small selection of fruits for the two of them and steaming tea were resting on it. She set it down on the table and took a seat next to him, her legs tightly clamped together and her hands wrapped together on her lap.

Silence remained between the two of them. Daelia brushed her long dark locks out of her eyes and reached over the tray to fix his tea on Adam's behalf.

"Nytalia was at dance class when it happened."

Daelia did not look at him as she spoke finally; her eyes were fixated on making sure the proper amount of sugar was used in his drink. She handed the cup to Adam, who smiled at her encouragingly.

"W-we… my family and I were on our way to pick her up when a human approached the car," Daelia willed herself to continue. "Lots of local humans were displaced and my parents wanted to do what they could, such as give them money or whatever… At least that's Nytalia told me. I don't know if that's the truth or not. She likes to paint flattering pictures for me."

Adam nodded. That was a common trait in the protective sibling…

"The man… he blew himself up beside the car," she continued, her voice empty, devoid of emotion and utterly factual in nature. "It was this huge concussive blast. It flipped the car onto its roof. I remember the glass and the crimson and purple blood I got coated in, I remember not being able to hear. I remember screaming but I could not hear a thing, my throat hurt so terribly but I heard nothing… I remember the smoke and fire."

She paused for a moment.

"As bad as that was, as terrifying as it had been, another human… he came out with a rifle and shot into what remained of the vehicle," Daelia pressed on as she briefly looked his way. "He pulled me out. I was still _screaming,_ when he… when he…"

Daelia trailed off and made a choking noise. Her air was caught up in the back of her throat. For the first time a hint of emotion crossed over Daelia's purposefully vacant expression. It was unbridled, untameable fear. It may have happened decades ago, but for her it was as fresh as Alexandria's death was still for him.

Instead of elaborating, she instead inhaled and stood up from her spot. She pulled up the front of her blouse, past her naval, up her abdomen and stopped an inch short of her breasts. Adam's eyes instantly focused on the four quarter-sized holes that ran up 135 degrees up the front of her body with likely even larger exit wounds on the other side of her. They might have been old wounds, long since healed, but they would never leave her skin –not by natural means, anyways.

As soon as Adam understood what the man… no, man would be too good a word… extremist coward had done to her, Daelia swiftly pulled the hem of her blouse back down and sat in a state of shamed silence. It took all of Adam's efforts to not lose his shit as he listened to the horrors Daelia went through as a child. He… he could not even begin to imagine what he would do if it had been Amala in a similar situation…

"The police shot him dead before he could finish," she concluded finally, taking a drink. "This happened quite often back in those days. The Mandate had just annexed most of Morocco. You can imagine why the locals weren't too happy…"

Daelia fell silent as she set down her cup and reached for a slice of Kalva fruit. Adam watched her as her shaky hands attempted to peel the thin red skin off the fruit. He remained silent as well as he took a drink. Yes, quarian expansion across North Africa had caused significant protest and internal violence. It wasn't even about population growth.

With their population settled and productive by the end of the forties, The Mandate quickly began utilizing every piece of spare land in the vicinity of their borders that they could find for dedicated armaments build up. None remaining colonial powers protested the unilateral annexation of Portuguese, Italian, British, Spanish lands from 1950 to 1968. How would any of them be able to? Naturally the populations displaced would react… but to take it out on civilians who had nothing to do with policy…

"…I can't imagine going through that at such a young age… a_ny age_…"

Daelia dropped the somewhat peeled fruit back onto the tray, her eyes flashing furious for a moment. His words were apparently not a comfort.

"_Please_," Daelia begged him weakly. "I'm not looking for sympathy anymore then you were looking for it when you told me about Alexandria. There are truths that need to be told… and… and I _want_ to trust you with mine as much as you have with _yours_."

Somewhat taken aback by her response, Adam nodded apologetically. He could respect that position. Neither of them wanted to be pitied by the other over the events of their past. Still, Adam could not help but wonder just how she managed to survive something so trauma at such a young age. It was really a testament of dedication that could only be attributed to the Zorah family, which took her and her sister in. Somehow they found a way to help her process the hell which she went through.

It was strange, considering that the Hoch's more or less constantly derailed the Zorah's as liars and manipulators… perhaps there was more to the family then the late Halid'Zorah. That or the Hoch's were the problem, which was just as likely to be the case.

Once again the two of them turned their focus on the food and drinks on the coffee table. Daelia finished peeling her piece of fruit and took a tender bite, her eyes occasionally flickering back in his direction. A strange muffled laugh escaped her lips. Adam looked up to her as she set down the fruit rind and folded her hands back onto her lap.

"You're the first person who I have spoken about my past... do you know that?" she informed him as soon as she swallowed. "What happened is not a state secret, people are aware of what happened to us -Nytalia is a little more open about it, of course. But you're the first person I've _confessed_ this to."

As morbid as the confession might have been, Adam could not help but feel touched that she was willing to trust him like that.

"Frankly I'm surprised you even trust humans at all," Adam replied right away. "If I were you I don't think I would have wanted to be anywhere near the species who still think they can achieve their struggle through killing an unarmed family."

Daelia nodded guiltily.

"For the longest time, I didn't…didn't… didn't trust humans, I mean," she meekly admitted to him. "I didn't trust anyone of your people. I guess I met a few nice ones as I grew up thanks to my guardians. I moved to the Reich, because I knew no one would dare try that sort of thing here… I guess that theory has been smashed now."

The Spittelmarkt Attack... It was the first case of external terrorism against the Reich since the late fifties. With a track record as clean as that, it was little wonder why Daelia summoned her nerve, forgot her distrust of humans in general and moved north.

The conversation between the two of them was getting a little too grim for his liking. Too much death, far too much personal suffering on Daelia's part… Jesus, she had been shot more than once! He was the one who was in the Wehrmacht, of the two of them it should have been him who was that scarred! Adam sighed inwardly; perhaps it was time to lighten the mood somewhat.

Yawning slightly, Adam stretched and without warning, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. He felt her stiffen, but not turn to face him.

"Then you met _charming_ old me and suddenly humans seemed alright to you. Is that it then?"

Adam watched as Daelia's head flew up to stare at him for what he said to her. There was a small, nervous smile which crossed her mouth as she shrugged and bumped into him in what Adam could only describe as her attempting to flirt. It was sweet to see her try. It was always an adorably awkward sight to bear witness to.

"Some…something like that…" she mumbled bashfully, her cheeks glistening purple.

Chuckling slightly Adam attempted to pull his arm off of her, but Daelia reached for it and held it in place. She pushed herself along the couch until she was nearly on top of him. She leaned against him, her free hand touched against his thigh. Slowly, Daelia bit her lip and glanced back towards him.

"Confession… it feels good. I have been nervous to talk about these sorts of things since… well… since we started seeing each other," she pressed forward as she placed her hand over his. "I'm not someone who puts her… _issues_ onto someone else. E-everyone else I talked to who found out about what happened has this overwhelming need to dump tears and sympathy on me for a two decade old event. Like… like it personally affects them the moment they heard... It's a nice change that you could hold back tears and respect my wishes… change is nicer than I thought it would be..."

Hearing her speak bitterly about the sympathy she did not, Adam decided not to tell her that he himself was nearly in tears at what he heard…

"Well something must be changing," Adam instead mused, his tone turning playful to again shift the mood to something lighter. "You know, this is the first time we've sat down and had a drink and something to eat without you fleeing here for an hour to shop just for me?"

Daelia emitted a low giggle and with perched lips forming into a slight smile, she nodded as she turned back to him.

"Yes, I… prepared. I figured out what you like and I… prepared," she replied in a soft trill. "I even dedicated a shelf in the kitchen and some refrigerator space j-just for you... It's a pretty big commitment, you know. It's almost like we're _married_…"

Without a sudden gasp, Daelia slapped her hand across her mouth, her eyes growing wide as if she had done or said something truly offensive. It took Adam a moment to figure out what was so wrong with her statement. _Married_. Right, the whole him being a widower revelation she just discovered. Instead of pointing out how hypocritical she was about garnering sympathy for what happened to her, while she treaded carefully around the subject of Alexandria, Adam leaned forward and kissed her forehead. His touch forced the suddenly tense quarian back into a state of semi-relaxation against him.

He supposed that in the scheme of things, Adam's loss was comparatively fresher than that of Daelia's. But she did not know the full story yet. She did not know that the only feeling he had left for Alexandria was an immense contempt for the cowardice which was masked by her pride. Jesus, how did one go about speaking ill of the dead? Especially when it was his own wife?

Squeezing her fingers for a moment, Adam separated himself from Daelia, leaving the woman slightly confused. Now was the time. He could not stall it any longer then he already had.

"I know that we've only been seeing each other for about a month now, but I really like you," he admitted to her softly his hands returning to hers. "It's reached to a point where… I think there might be more to it... more than a simple affection I mean… but I've been holding back from expanding on this feeling."

Daelia blinked and frowned.

"Because of Alexandria?"

_Alexandria_… yes he supposed that was technically true in a way. Instead of saying that, Adam instead shook his head instead.

"No," he refuted her observation. "I'm holding back for your benefit… not hers."

Daelia lost colour in her face and turned away from him. She shuffled hard in her seat as her hands fidgeted.

"So… so you know that I'm not… _right_… and not solely because of what happened to me…" Daelia whispered to herself, her eyes darting back and forth.

Well… this had gone in a direction he certainly did not want to take it…

So… there _was_ something off with her. Daelia did have HOCCD, or at least she all but confirmed it for him. It explained just about absolutely everything about her behaviour. The condition must have been severely agitated by what had happened to her. He leaned forward and touched her arm. Daelia flinched and turned to face him.

"There's _nothing_ wrong with you Daelia," he reassured the woman, as he squeezed her hand. "But… yes, I've known for a while now... Well not _known, _but I work in conjunction with someone who shares your quirks so I have inferred. But whatever condition you might have is not the reason why I'm holding back from it."

Adam watched as Daelia blinked three times in quick succession. She looked utterly embarrassed for so quickly outing her condition to him. Deciding to intervene before she collapsed into a self-induced rage for her admittance, he decided enough was enough.

"I'm a single parent, Daelia. I'm a widower, single father; that's who I am," he blurted out finally. "I have a lot of baggage and it's not fair to tell you I might feel something strong for you and then dump a whole new challenge on you."

Well… that worked… sort of.

Daelia's rage subsided and she turned to stare at him as though he had said something unspeakable, like he had cursed out her lost family. At least this time, unlike when he confessed to her about Alexandria, she seemed to have paid attention to what he said word for word.

"_You're a Father_?" Daelia breathed out at long last.

So she _had_ been listening…

Smiling slightly, Adam nodded and with his eyes never leaving Daelia's stunned face, he reached into his back pocket and produced his wallet. He pulled out the most recent photograph he had of his child. Flash photography was antiquated compared to the latest holographic screen captures, but to him it felt soulless. He glanced at the picture of a widely grinning child for a moment before he offered it out to Daelia for inspection.

She did not take it. Not right away, she was still in a state of silent shock. Adam ignored the fear of rejection creeping slowly into the back of his mind. Finally, after what felt a lot longer than it actually was, Daelia broke her unblinking stare and reached out. She took the photograph from him.

"Her name is Amala," Adam introduced his child as he watched her clutch the photograph. "She's five… she's a quiet thing… kind of like you, but I imagine that'll change soon enough. She's… everything to me… as clichéd as that may sound."

Daelia's head tilted to one side, her mouth was tightened as her narrowed eyes lingered on the image. She hadn't taken a single breath since she took his picture and that had been easily a minute prior. It was… rather intimidating.

"I think that's… nice," she spoke as she exhaled. "It's nice you f-feel that way for her."

With shaking hands, Daelia handed the photograph back to Adam. She looked too petrified to speak. As he carefully put the picture back into his wallet, he ran his hand across his face and smiled weakly at the bewildered quarian. Her silence was not a good thing, but it was not a bad sign either. Usually at this point she would be blurting out a whole tirade of self-abuse or something horrifying along those lines. She seemed to be focusing carefully on absorbing what he had to say.

"Here's the thing, when I started this relationship with you, I thought that if I saw even one moment of hesitation in you when you learned I was a father and I would break it off with you. It seemed like a simple thing back then," he admitted softly to the silent quarian. "But Daelia, that was before I really got to know you… this wonderful, dry witted, adorably awkward woman who tries her hardest to handle a pest like me. I like you Daelia, and I want this to work… I really do."

He paused for a moment to give her a chance to speak. She did not take the opportunity he presented her.

"But at the same time, I don't want to make you stay," he pressed forward. "I'm telling you this right now for a reason. I don't want you to feel _obligated_ to stick around, or to say you like me or anything like that. I wanted to give you a chance to make a clean break. Your life is complicated enough as it is without throwing another woman's child into the mix. I'm sure you could handle it if you wanted to… but you shouldn't have to have to if you don't want to."

Exhaling, Adam checked the time. He really ought to be heading back home. He did not want to inconvenience Erika any more than he already had been since he started dating Galina. In the more grim thoughts buried in his brain at least if the relationship collapsed, it would be doing Erika a favour…

"Well, I said what I needed to say… and I'm glad I got that out," he sighed. "But I think I'm going to go, now. I left Amala with a friend at short notice, and I imagine you'll need some time… you know… figuring out where you stand."

As he started to raise himself off of the couch, Daelia snapped out of her catatonia and reached out, grabbing his arm with her vice-like grip. Adam tried his best not to wince, but _Jesus Christ_ was this woman strong…

"No… p-please stay; there is a lot to talk about…_please._" She nearly cried out in a futile desperation. "There are so many… many issues we need to work out. I don't know if I'm capabl-"

Adam leaned forward and cut her off with a kiss. Slowly but surely, Daelia relaxed enough for Adam to gently pry her hand off him so that he could move without pulling her up with him.

"I know there is, believe me that I do, and I want to have this conversation. It's why I'm here," he agreed with her as he stood from his seat. "The thing is we're on the precipice of saying things we may not want to say to each other. You'll get flustered and this time I'll lose my cool. I'm not some cold blooded Prussian, dull North German, or happy-go-lucky Bavarian. I'm a piss-for-brains Canuck who tries to be a polite stereotype, but really is always one bad argument away from snapping and doing stupid, crazy –usually alcohol fuelled- idiocy, so I'll definitely _fuck_ everything up even worse than you can possibly imagine…"

Adam trailed off and winced. That was perhaps a little too strong language to use, but it was a truth which needed to be said. No matter how cool he wanted to be, he just knew that the conversation they were on the verge of happening was inevitably going to spiral out of control and it was a drama neither of them wanted to deal with. They were two people who hated confrontation. So perhaps it would be better to avoid that altogether.

Adam reached out and touched her cheek tenderly.

"So perhaps we can spare us both that drama for the time being," he softly voiced his opinion to her. "It's better if we leave it here and continue when you had time to process it. I'm not trying to dismiss you. We need to go about this when we're both possessing clear minds. Or… we can keep talking and roll the dice. I'll leave that choice up to you."

Daelia stood up as well; she backed slowly away from him, her hand rubbing the back of her neck. She looked utterly flustered, but she held not protest to what he was suggesting. She knew it was better to let cooler heads prevail –at least for the time being. When that would be, neither of them knew for sure, but it was better this way and both of them knew that.

"I… yes… _yes,_ you are right," Daelia agreed, her voice devoid of any emotion as she continued to back away from him. "I know my own history. I will say things I will regret the moment I say them, but I'll have no way to retract it. It will just be... there… out in the open…"

Falling silent, Daelia led Adam to the front door. There was a sickening depressed feeling bubbling in the pit of his gut as he watched her shuffle aimlessly. He knew this was bound to happen. It _had_ to happen. As much as he wanted to punch Hoch in the face for making him return back to a state of reality following a long blissful dream, he knew this was for the best.

As they reached the doorway, Daelia turned around. She looked utterly lost as she stared at him.

"You know how to get in contact with me when you want to talk about it, so please don't hesitate… like you did at the beginning right?" he teased her, trying to break tension between them. "Whenever you're ready, I'll be waiting, okay?"

Daelia nodded half-heartedly and moved out of his way. Wishing he could say something, anything, Adam remained silent and with one graze on the side of her torso, he left Daelia's home, fuming as he returned back to reality.

**…**

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**My god that took forever to release; I guess summer got the best of me. This chapter was going to have more Charlotte Hoch in it, but for the sake of expedience, I decided to cut that out. There will be plenty of her next chapter, which will be end of act one to this story. Now that this is out of the way, I get to move on with the plot. It's time for blood! Alien blood!**

**I started an unrelated Mass Effect canon based series that has proven to be somewhat popular. I am continuing that effort with two stories being written simultaneously. One based on the Citadel DLC, the other one is aptly named **_**'The Secret Life and Shames of Commander Shepard'**_** Which will be a under 5000 word a chapter series about Tali learning about the Commander -The good, the bad and the just plain embarrassing. For starters his fears of elevators and secret shame of loving old chick flick movies…**

**Thanks for reading!**


	11. The First Steps Back

**Sorry for the delay (as usual)**

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**Chapter Eleven: The First Steps Back**

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A sudden, overwhelming pressure jumped onto his chest and stomach involuntarily snapping Adam Ackerson back to a state of awareness. He groaned at the source of the sudden 35 pounds on top of him. He pulled his arms out of the blankets and gripped its side and listened as it emitted a high pitched squeal of laughter as his fingers danced.

"Daddy, you promised you'd take me sledding!" the whining, dramatic tone of his Amala called out at him.

Adam dropped his hands to his sides and sighed dramatic. Yes… yes he supposed he did make her a promise before bedtime. He wasn't exactly sure why Amala had figured that meant they would start at 7 in the morning on a Saturday, but hey? What could he expect from a hyperactive child about to undertake her first proper snow fall she could participate in.

A poke in between his ribs caught his attention yet again. Amala was staring at him with her wide brown eyes, awaiting a sufficient answer from her father. Taking her hand, he pressed his lips to her knuckles and let go of her.

"Alright… yeah, okay," he confirmed plainly. "Go pick out what you want to wear and I'll be down in a bit… waffles, kiddo?"

He was answered with a wild gibberish that probably made sense to her, but made no goddamn sense to him. Making sure that his girl was probably already downstairs, Adam's smile dropped off his face and he rolled back onto his side, staring bitterly at the wall opposite of him. No matter how much he slept or kept himself busy, he felt like a miserable sack of worthless shit; a failure as a man, really.

It was a dramatic viewpoint, perhaps, but it was just how he felt about his current predicament…

Adan checked his clock and exhaled miserably. Three weeks, four days and eight hours. It had been three weeks, four days, eight hours since he last heard from _her_…

Adam really had to hand it to Daelia, when she needed time to think, she sure could take her sweet time. Perhaps he should have just rolled the dice instead and had the fight. Stupid him for wanting to avoid a confrontation between the two of them, it would have been better than this god awful waiting.

He supposed this was a well-earned absence for the deception he laid on her. In hindsight he should have been more open about his status to her far soon. Like, the day they went out for tea for the first time. Instead he led her on, thinking that somehow, someway, things would naturally work out and nothing would change over it. He should have known he'd been delusional when John Hoch was the voice of reason, the one which convinced him to be truthful.

In dead silence, Adam pulled himself reluctantly out of bed to get dressed and start another miserable day of distractions and waiting for an answer that was increasingly less likely to be in his favour. Mumbling to himself as he yawned and rubbed the stubble on his face, he made his way downstairs to make Amala her promised breakfast.

As he started to pull the iron out of the cupboard a knock on the front door caught his attention from his private self-pity. He set it down on the kitchen top and stepped back out of the kitchen in the direction of the front door. Forming his expression back into neutral as he reached the door, he opened it up. He knew for a fact it was a Hoch. They were his only visitors. Which one of them was up in the air.

Standing there in the doorway was none other than Saleb'Jarva, a faint smile on her face as she inspected his personification of misery. Like almost all quarians the moment November arrived in Germany, she was decked head to toe in winter clothing. Rather peculiar since she spent most of her life living in Germany. Rubbing the back of his hair, Adam silently stepped out of the doorway, allowing the older woman to enter his home.

"Staying for breakfast?" he invited as he closed the door behind her. "I'm afraid I can't get too complicated for the _sophisticated_ Jarva palate, though. I have to bang out something edible for Amala and then take her sledding."

Saleb chuckled at the gentle ribbing she received. Of all the children that Joachim and Hanala raised, Saleb was easily the one that could be classified as a snob. She enjoyed the finer things in life. She explained it was as a result of being born and raised in the frugal existence that was the Migrant Fleet, and then came her sudden eye opening exposure of wealth instigated by her best friend Hedda Goebbels and her mother Magda. It was an impression neither of the reasonably financially modest Joachim and Hanala could erase from her mind.

Still, as much she may have enjoyed wealth, she did not fall in line with her younger sisters and followed blindly into Daedalus Foundation with John leading the charge. She instead paved her own path and was now a major partner in a Mandate based brokerage firm. It was a lot of hard work which could have been avoided if she joined the John Hoch meal ticket plan. Adam supposed she was too proud for that… and perhaps something else was going on. Never at any point of his relationship with the Hoch's had he seen John or Saleb on good terms. Cordial for the sake of their parents, perhaps, but never were they close.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm fine. The wife is expecting me at the _Alte_ _Nationalgalerie_ in the afternoon," Saleb informed him as she pulled off her scarf and gloves. "I just figured I'd drop by and see how you were doing. Mom said you're not doing too good… why, you were even late to her and dad's physical therapy sessions, for shame!"

Adam rolled his eyes. Right, leave it to Hanala to send over Saleb to check up on him. Of all the children she had, Saleb was the only one in a stable relationship. –with exception to Jochen, but Jochen was very busy these days to be bothered to check on him in the same sort of manner as Saleb could do. Plus she could empathize with the difficulty of seeing women.

If one could ignore the National Socialist attitude towards homosexuality (Which was admittedly a hard thing to do) one would be shocked to find that in Weimar Germany, even as early as the reign of Kaiser Wilhelm I, that Germany had always been one of the most progressive nations in Europe for the gay community. Of course back then it was frowned upon, but homosexuals were not punished for their orientation. If they kept it to themselves it was a point of German conservative nature not to inquire about the personal life of others.

The same could be said for modern day Germany. There were no gay pride parades in Germany like the rest of the world. It was not because they were a suppressed people, or still in a fight for their rights. It was because there was simply no need for them. They had long since moved past the issue. The German government had bowed to the polite pressures of the quarians to extend equal rights in all fields for the gay community back in 1947. In fact it was one of the first rulings done by the civilian government once the Wehrmacht Council handed governance back to the people.

This display of tolerance was a real shock for Adam when he arrived to the Reich in his teenage years, he had to admit. He wasn't raised in a gay friendly culture. Sure, North America painted itself as a bastion of diversity and individualism unlike the dreadfully repressive totalitarian Reich, but it was just wasn't the case.

He remembered the first HIV/AIDS scare; he remembered when gays were banned from swimming in public pools and blood donations. Adam had to admit, there was a time when even he had thought these discriminatory policies were the right thing until he moved to the Reich. He quickly learned that what occurred in the bedroom of the people in the Reich just did not register on the list of problems the Reich had. So long as people pulled their weight and saw through with their responsibilities, what the people did in their spare time was of little concern. Strange, considering there were more secret services in the Reich then he had fingers and toes.

Stranger yet, it had been the Wehrmacht which was the first organizations outside the quarians which actively pushed for repealing Nazi policy. Not to spite the Nazi law imply because it was policy made by the enemy, but because they did not believe in them. Period. The draconian policy of the National Socialist anti-homosexuality crusade meant that many good military men had their careers and lives destroyed by unsubstantiated claims made by opportunistic rivals, or by party members who saw opposition to the party in the army ranks. One whisper of homosexual behaviour and careers ended quickly. It was always an unofficial Prussian virtue that so long as sexual preference did not interfere with their career; it was not a matter to address. It was strangely progressive for noted viciously conservative men.

Of course, the feeling about homosexual rights was not a universally accepted argument. The debate over the issue raged for years until Kaiser Louis Ferdinand put his foot down and metaphorically sat all his subjects down for a good, stern talking to about the subject. And even then many held out over it. Some prejudices were hard to forget, especially amongst those who embraced the National Socialists at a young age. In the case of Joachim Hoch, it took years and years to get over it. It was in Hanala's estimation that it only happened because at 18, Saleb final had enough of keeping her identity a secret from him and brought her girlfriend home for Christmas.

Jesus Christ... Now that would have been a real spectacle to be a witness to.

John once told him about. According to him, it was easily in the top five family arguments the Hoch family ever had. Hanala, Galina and Alaan quickly rushed to Saleb's defense and put Joachim through the ringer for three hours straight. When they finally stopped prematurely berating him, he told them that the moment he saw Saleb holding her girlfriend's hand, he was perfectly fine with it, and that his silence and aloof behaviour was just him trying to figure out just how he would threaten the girl if she broke Saleb's heart. His acceptance certainly made the family look like a bunch of paranoid jerks. Who knew if that was the complete truth; or perhaps that was designed by Joachim to save face. The last thing young Joachim Hoch wanted to be was _wrong_.

Adam inwardly shook his head. The Jarva-Hoch clan were a fucking weird, contradiction of a family that was for sure.

"So… how are you doing, Adam?" Saleb called out, catching his attention once again.

As Adam joined Saleb in the kitchen, he found the woman pouring herself a small glass of water from the tap. She turned around and sipping her drink, she held her bright inquisitive eyes on his. Inwardly the man flinched at the disarming expression she wore. He was very good at masking at how he felt. It was something he had to practice a lot between his near total isolation from his family to what happened to Alexandria. Most of the Hoch family believed that he was perfectly fine and those who knew better never got a single thing out of him.

But there was always one exception: and that was Saleb. Ever since they first met, she was the only Hoch or Jarva that managed to see through his bullshit front and delve right into the core of his insecurity. At this point there was no point delaying the inevitable. It was more expedient to just tell the truth.

"I don't know…" he admitted as he stepped forward to join her. "I'm annoyed, frustrated, filled with dread. Mostly I feel like I brought this on myself. I… wasn't truthful to her."

Saleb set down her half emptied glass and reached out to him, clasping him on the cheek briefly before sliding down to grab his shoulder.

"Ahhh, young love," Saleb replied with a small wistful sigh. "The angst, the heartbreak, the uncertainty and the grueling debate between truth and white lies… you know, I kind of miss that?"

Adam huffed loudly at the remark.

The grass is always greener," Adam moodily replied as he bent forward and gripped the counter top. "I don't know, maybe I should have just blew her off the night I met her. Save me a whole lot of heartache and embarrassment. I'm _goddamn_ 30 years old! I shouldn't be acting half my age about this!"

"And I'm nearly 60," Saleb countered with a reassuring smile. "Don't stand there and tell me that it's better to not feel something rather than go through your whole life depriving chances of happiness because it's difficult, because you might get your heart broken. You can't live like that, it's not healthy; it's not what anyone wants to see you endure any longer. Hanala, Joachim, the twins, Reinhardt, Jochen… even Galina! They all know just how miserable you are and I didn't even have to utter a single thing to them. For years you have been an embodiment of grief and anger; but now you have a chance to break that cycle. You just have to have a little more patience; you have to be prepared for rejection."

Exhaling, the quarian reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. For a moment Adam smiled and felt as though he had a sibling with him, comforting him.

"But there is something even scarier than rejection… you have to be ready to open yourself up if she says she's willing to take a leap of faith with your and Amala," she pressed on softly. "Daelia is taking just as much of a risk to her stability as you are for yours."

Although the doubt remained very much in his mind about just what Saleb was saying, he knew better then to argue with her. Saleb never spoke anything but the observed truth. He was living with a ghost for years and now here he was sticking his neck out, but the moment it got a little hairy he was ready to shut it all down and revert back to the lonely widower mode he was more than happy to engage in.

Laughing humourlessly to himself, Adam rubbed his forehead and turned back to face the woman watching him. He crossed his arms in a silly display of self-destructive defiance.

"Say it works out then, say everything is smoothed over," he hypothesized out loud to her with a deflated shrug of his shoulders. "I'm still a father, and in the end it all hinges on what Amala thinks of her. If she has a problem with Daelia, don't I have an obligation to her to do the right thing? I think what I want should come second to her."

A lingering pause fell between the two of them. As Adam gripped both sides of the counter, he watched as Saleb leaned against the counter as well. Still she remained silent, but that would not be for long. Years of influence from her adopted mother had pretty much insured that this was just a lull, and soon she would answer him. Years of being in her company pretty much guaranteed that would be the case.

Saleb inhaled suddenly and Adam rolled his eyes. It was predictable really.

"Your obligation to Amala is to raise her, to keep her safe and to love her," she firmly spoke to him, her hand patting his. "Unless Daelia turns out to be some sort of child abuser –and I highly doubt that- you don't need to heed Amala's opinion on what your heart wants without question. You can _love_ two people at the same time."

As Adam attempted to refute what she was saying, Saleb reached out and pressed a finger against his lips and shook her head.

"No silly contrarian arguments, no more excuses, Adam! It's okay to open up to others again!" she stated defiantly. "I can't say for certain much about Daelia'Vael, but I assure you Amala will not leave you like… well, like Alexandria did… she's her father's daughter. No matter how much a certain someone thinks otherwise…"

Any argument, any protest which he had fell to the wayside as Saleb mentioned the ever present spectre that was John Hoch looming in all of their lives. He knew what Saleb meant to John. It was another chance to groom another Alexandria into his life. John might have been a relatively decent man, but there was no denying his had machinations in the works that involved his child in some way. The worst part was that there was no means of him to separate her from him. He was far too tightly wound up in the web of the Hoch's to do anything. In the end it would have to be Amala herself to put a stop to it when she was old enough to see things for what they were…

"I've trained to be a soldier, I have the ability to save lives," he muttered mutinously to himself. "But this…I feel like a _child_ when it comes to her. It sounds so stupid, doesn't it?"

His confession made the older woman plainly smile. She reached out and cusped both of his cheeks. The sound of heavy snow boots thudding down the stairs caught their attention. The little monster disguised as a girl was coming and she would surely be ravenous. Letting go of him, Saleb opened up kitchen apparel drawer and pulled an apron out to wrap over her fine clothing.

"No… it doesn't, Adam… it sounds like love… or something on the path to that," she sighed as she tied herself up and took his hand. "Now come along, I'll help you fix breakfast… and you can tell me all about Daelia."

Pursing his lips together, Adam smiled faintly and nodded. Daelia'Vael was a topic he hadn't talked to anyone about before…

**…**

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Standing in line for the luncheon being served in the mess hall, Charlotte von Hoch attempted her utmost to ignore the growing migraine that was building up in her head.

Tried was the keyword there. It was a sharp, throbbing pain that had been in her since she made her first mass relay jump. She tried to keep herself busy so that she was not paying attention to the pressure. She always went out of her way to follow every command and direction her captain had demanded, but Captain Raan would always make sure that she had downtime. He might have had a good intention, but to her it was a torture to have free time.

So with her free time, Charlotte would write to her family and friends back home, but with no way to send the messages, it became a form of journal writing in a way. And when she really had nothing left to do, she would go to the observation decks of the _Vengeance_ and simply sit there alone, gazing in wonder at the new star clusters and planets they traveled by as the taskforce metaphorically inched its way through uncharted systems.

It became evident quickly why travel to the Point Zero was taking such a long time to reach. They were on a long route far around the major relay lanes so that they did not arouse attention. The path was charted by a contact of a less then scrupulous nature –an asari who made a business arrangement with the late Halid'Zorah. Since it was off the beaten path, the path they were taking was potentially dangerous and therefore care had to be taken. They could not rush from one point to another.

Even weeks into her duties she had to pinch herself, she was on an actual military operation now. Deep behind enemy lines –and it was enemy lines. Any part of the galaxy not controlled by the quarians was hostile territory. At any point they could be discovered and have half the turian fleet chasing them. The _Vengeance_ was a solid ship as were the taskforce it travelled with, but the combined might of the turians would easily overwhelm it.

This fear remained unexpressed. She had to remain optimistic. The criminal races were fat, bloated and content with the power they had. They would not venture willingly into the unexplored and pirate controlled space. They were too lazy, unadventurous and dull-witted for such an undertaken. That would be why they would never see the naval blitzkrieg come when the combined might of the Mandate Fleet and the Raumstreitflotte were mobilized for war against the geth.

As the line moved, the overwhelming scent of her dinner, some sort of overcooked Brisket cooked by quarians who clearly never had to cook for humans permitted in the officer section before wafted into her face. The queasiness was compounded. Charlotte dropped her tray and turned right around, vomiting hard on the ground. She collapsed on her knees, overwhelmed by a certain sense of shame.

"Shit…" was all she could moan as her face heated up as she heard the soft chuckling come from her surroundings.

"Someone call in maintenance, new blood lost her lunch," one of the quarians taunted, earning a hardened laughter at her expense.

As quickly as the hassling started, it ended before the lone human could defend her own honour. The laughter immediately ceased as Charlotte heard boots march towards the lineup. Immediately she watched as the feet of the quarian officers snapped together, the turn away from the scene and focus on procuring their dinner.

Wiping her mouth, Charlotte watched silently as Captain Maron'Raan squatted down next to her, his hand resting on her back. He appeared rather concern, but remained silent as he inspected her. Gingerly he reached out, picked up some of the lamb brisket and took a sniff. He recoiled, his face contorting into slight disgust.

"How are you doing Leutnant?" he addressed his protégé warmly. "Remind me to reassign some of the Heer staff assigned to the ship up to this kitchen. I don't eat human food and even I can tell it's not right."

Charlotte tried to smile at Captain Raan's attempt to alleviate the accident with some humour. She failed completely. Feeling miserable at her perceived weakness, she shakily stood up and wiped her mouth once again and turned to Captain Raan as he stood upright as well.

"I'm still adapting to long term space travel, sir," she confessed to him, a certain amount of shame filling her voice as she stared at her vomit on the ground. "You have my apologies if you are disappointed in your pick of candidate."

It was a lame apology, and Captain Raan was not having any of it. With a frown on his face, he shook his head as he dropped his hand back down onto her shoulder and leaned in

"Pay no attention to what the others have to say. I imagine most of them would get seasick if put out in the ocean," Raan dismissed her self-flagellation. With a slight grimace, he added, "…and a confession: I was nauseous for my first dozen times outside of the Earth. The whole '_quarians are natural spacefarers' _is all just a propaganda front."

Although Charlotte made it a point not to wear her emotions on her sleeve, she did feel better that one of the greatest captains in the Mandate navy had difficulties adjusting to space travel as she had cheered her up considerable. Still, however, a dark worrying feeling continued to permeate in her. There was a lot more at work then simple motion sickness.

"I think that there is more to it…" she confessed to the captain, feeling like a petulant child as she whispered to him so that no one could overhear her. "I… I'm _scared_, sir. A lot more scared then I thought I would be. It doesn't make sense. Warfare is basically in my blood going back as far as the German unification wars of the mid-19th century. What if I fail to live up to my ancestor's legacies? Worst yet, to my father and grandfather's example? I do not know if I can live with that shame."

Squeezing her shoulder, Captain Raan glanced around at his officers in the mess hall before turning back to her.

"Charlotte, you're setting a standard far too high for anyone to overcome. It's okay to be scared. Only someone mentally unstable or utterly indoctrinated would look forward to taking life," he gently poked holes into her words. "And as for your father and grandfather… I doubt very much that they could feel any shame for you to be scared. Your father fought hand-to-hand in South-East Asia, your father against all comers across Europe, Russia and North Africa for nearly a decade before he was given a command behind the lines. You don't think that at any point they too were as scared as you feel right now?"

Charlotte remained silent. Yes… perhaps what the Captain was reminding her did have merit. As much as she loved to hear the old war stories grandfather and father told her, she always seemed to ignore that there was always a note of… she supposed it was guilt, pain, regret… something like that. But she was far to enamoured by the thrill of combat to pay any attention to it, or to her brother Joachim who was by far more sensitive about the stories he heard with her.

Perhaps that was why everyone liked Joachim better than her. He was more in tune with the general mood of the Hoch's when it came to warfare, while romanticized it like a fool. Now hear she was on course to her first combat, vomiting and frightened like the child she clearly still was.

"Take a seat at my table," she heard Captain Raan break through her miserable reflection. "I'll have the Heer mess hall send up some broth and tea. You're going to need all the strength you can get. We're dropping out to our final destination in nine hours…"

As Captain Raan loosened his hand from her shoulder, Charlotte took a step back and snapped out a salute.

Nine more hours of waiting...

**…**

* * *

**…**

"-don't you agree, Jorah?"

Looking up from his dinner to find a dozen Zorah's staring expectantly for an answer to a question that his wife had asked him, which he frankly did not hear, Jorah'Xen did the only thing that made sense to him. He smiled slightly and nodded to his wife. It was the only sensible thing to do, of course. The last thing he wanted to do was be dragged into the time honoured Zorah tradition of deceptive talk. It would not be difficult for him to be backed into a corner by them.

If only his father could see him now –married into the Zorah clan would have killed him if he was still around. A Xen never forgot its sleights and grievances. The fact that his Grandfather Martus'Xen died as a result of the deceptive games of Admiral Halid'Zorah was an anger that father could never forget. It left him fatherless at an infant's age.

Jorah could take a little solace however that perhaps his father would not hate his decision to marry Nytalia. She was, after all, _Nal Aotio Zorah_ – clan adoptee Zorah – and not a true born member. Like Clan Xen, Clan Vael was a victim of the meddling of the Halid'Zorah's never ending annexation of North African lands. The entire Vael family killed with exception to Nytalia, who the Ancestors saw fit to keep her away from danger.

… Not like Daelia'Vael. It took years before he knew what had happened to 'Lia's strange little sister. The horrors she witnessed at such a young age. It was little surprise why she ended up the way that she did. Even less of a surprise when she fled the Mandate for the Reich the moment she was old enough to leave her adopted clan. She did not even pause to consider the position she put the Zorah family in. Perhaps a good portion of her had resented the fact she was raised by the family whose patriarch had enacted policies that made her a witness to her family's death as well as nearly killing her in the process.

As much as Jorah could sympathize with Daelia's seemingly lack of trust of the Zorah's; he could not help but feel it was overkill. As bad as Halid'Zorah had been – and that man had been a terrible manipulator, whose actions would live on _centuries_ after his bones turned to dust – his youngest son Joru'Zorah was the utter opposite of his father.

Many men, Jorah included, aspired to measure up to their father's legacy. Not Joru. Joru knew at an early age every horrific act his father engaged in in order to facility the German-Quarian alliance. That knowledge alone convinced him to follow his mother's into far less manipulative public service. He was a populist senator who advocated against the growing military influence over the Mandate Government. Naturally his political aspirations were in direct conflict with his father's. Joru was a beloved, charismatic leader who the general population cared for greatly. Naturally that made him many enemies inside the Mandate Defense Force, and by extension the Wehrmacht and the Wehrmacht Council. Peace feelers were not welcomed by men who plotted decades over interstellar war.

But he persevered, and as a real testament to his popularity, Joru was invited to speak before the United States Congress in 1982. This had been at the height of tension between the two states when the extent of quarian support given to the Paladin Group came to light. It had been _him _who made the information public to the world when his father died. Some eve likened him to former president John F Kennedy; both of whom were apparently still close friends until his death in 1996.

Jorah exhaled as he tipped back his glass of wine against his lips. It could have been worse. He could have been sitting at a table containing the mixed species Hoch-Jarva clan. If there was one family father hated more than the Zorah's, it would have been them.

The doorbell caught both his and Nytalia's attention. Squeezing his thigh and smiling that sweet look that demanded he do something on her behalf. Rolling his eyes, Jorah set his glass down and stood up, leaving behind the playfully bickering large family to their many conversations. In all honesty he would have to thank whoever was calling this evening. It gave him a chance at a respite. Clan Xen hated social talk, and in that way, Jorah was a Xen to the bone.

As he made his way through the hallway at a dawdling pace, the doorbell rung yet again. This time it was accompanied with a small but insistent knock. Stretching and yawning softly, Jorah stepped into the entrance of the manor home and opened the door.

The only thing he could do was blink as he stared at the woman standing there on the front steps. She was staring right back, but only for a moment before she averted her eyes to her feet. With two bottles in each hand, she looked utterly uncomfortable wearing winter clothing in the hot North African sunset.

It was Daelia; her expression was one of befuddlement that it would be Jorah of all people who answered the door and not her sister, her adopted siblings or her parents. She remained stone silent as she stared at him.

To be honest, this reaction was not an unexpected one. Jorah and Daelia never really got along that well, even now into his third year of marriage to Nytalia. It was certainly not a lack of trying on his part. He made every conscious effort to get to know his new sister-in-law, but Daelia… Daelia was just not having it. It was almost as though she was under the impression that his sole purpose for existence was to create a divide between her and her sister. He supposed her leeriness made sense when one considered her… condition and the things she endured. It did not help that Nytalia and him were expecting.

It seemed like everything he did to foster a better understanding between him and her fell apart at the seams quickly,, his latest mistake being setting her up on a blind date with Cades'Uah; a co-worker her age. He supposed Cades looked a little into his date and decided he wasn't interested. Nytalia asked him to kick his ass. Obviously that wasn't going to happen, but he did give him an earful.

"I brought… wine…" Daelia was to first to speak in her broken speech inflection, holding the dark wine up to be inspected. "…and a sparkling water for Nytalia as well..."

Perhaps it was a tad rash of him to do, but Jorah stepped forward and wrapped his arms right around his sister-in-law. He felt her freeze and tighten up, not returning the hug at all.

"How are you doing?" he inquired, genuinely curious as he let his grip slide and took a step back. "Good I hope?"

Daelia did not reply to his query. Her mouth instead tightened up as she peered over Jorah's shoulder to the direction of the conversation and the laughter. It appeared to him that she was attempting to psyche herself up into stepping into the snake pit that was the Zorah clan.

With a final breath, Daelia stepped past him and slowly made her way to the dining room. Her eyes remained locked on the destination she was heading to. As much as he wanted to reassure her that it was going to be alright, Jorah knew it would never register on any level with her. She would just have to dive in at her own accord.

"Look who decided to grace us with her presence," Jorah called attention to Daelia with a slight grin as the two of them reached the dining room.

The conversations died down and everyone turned to face Jorah and Daelia standing in the doorway.

The first one to react to the unexpected appearance of Daelia was naturally going to be her sister. With a small struggle, Nytalia stood up and flung her arms around her little sister. Unlike with Jorah, Daelia returned the affection this time, her arms wrapping around her sister's back and rested her chin briefly on Nytalia's shoulder.

As Daelia pulled back from the affection, Nytalia pulled the bottles out of her hand and put them on the dinner table, she started unbuttoning Daelia's winter clothing, a small laugh escaping her lips as she was clearly amused by her sister's clothing choices for a visit to the Mandate. Jorah shared a look with his wife for the briefest of moments. She had tears building in her eyes. She really hated to have her sister live in some sort of self-imposed isolation in the Reich. Anytime she swallowed her nerves and came back to the Mandate was a good thing.

"I… I thought I would take up Nytalia's suggestion and join you," Daelia spoke to her adopted parents, unable to meet their happy expressions. "I-I hope that's okay... you know, to drop by like this unannounced."

Jorah watched as Malana'Zorah stood from her seat and approached her adopted daughter with a sweet smile. She reached out and kissed the girl on each of her cheeks before taking her by the hand and leading her to her traditional seat –next to Nytalia. As Daelia passed by the members of the family each of her adopted brothers –Alaan, Kalin and Loare, and sisters Euani, Sessora and Kalui stood up to shower her with hugs and physical affection.

Poor Daelia, Jorah winced as he sat down next to Nytalia, who kissed his cheek. She looked as if she was in a personal hell. Jorah knew that there was a love that Daelia felt for them, but it was still clear physical affection was not something she dealt with well. It made him feel a little better about her evasiveness with him if she did this with those who she grew up with.

"You know you don't need her to tell you to come," Malana reminded the shy woman. "This is your home, Daeli. There's _always_ a seat open for you."

Looking a Malana, with an expression of adorable ashamedness for her reluctance to interfere in the affairs of her own family, Daelia nodded.

As Daelia took a seat, Jorah noticed that the only Zorah who did not stand and greet her like the others had been Joru. It was not out of a cold disinterest however. From what Jorah gathered from Nytalia, Daelia and him shared a different sort of bond. Everyone else in the family attempted to treat Daelia like she was one of them –affection and all- Joru was the only one who acknowledged that Daelia was… different. Daelia seemed to appreciate that quite a bit. The father smiled to his adopted child and in return, Daelia smiled back for the first time.

He remained still as he watched his second eldest helped herself to plating her own dinner. His fingers crossed together on the table.

"So... how are you doing?" Joru asked Daelia delicately, "The Reich has been rather turbulent recently. I trust you're keeping safe during the unrest?"

Daelia looked up to her adopted father's concern expression briefly and nodded.

"I have." Daelia replied as she finished gathering her dinner, her eyes focused on her plate. "Pankow district is teeming with checkpoints and patrols. It's relatively safe, all things considered."

Nytalia coughed slightly, bumping slightly against her little sister. Daelia snapped her head briefly in her direction before turning her focus to the salad bowl once again.

"_-Except for that time some kid beamed you in the head with a bottle,_" Nytalia muttered next to her, making Daelia's face heat up to a healthy purple tone.

Thankfully for everyone, Joru did not hear the truth Nytalia stated. If he had heard calls would be made to the Pankow District security desk and Daelia would have a personal guard unit. Satisfied his second eldest daughter was living relatively unmolested by the civil unrest in the Reich, Joru dropped his concern slightly and turned back to cutting his steak. His silence was all it was needed for the Zorah family to return back to a state of comfortable silence as they turned their attentions back to dinner.

It remained that way for a good while, the conversations turned light. Mostly a discussion of the various course the secondary school and college aged Zorah boys and girls were taking. These were lighter conversations that Daelia would not be afraid to partake in -which she did causally as she ate. Keeping up with what her adopted siblings were doing in school was one of the few things she seemed to have had an enthusiasm to learn.

Jorah sipped his wine. He supposed education was a vested interest in a teacher like Daelia.

He glanced over to Nytalia. She was absolutely radiant. Usually she was very composed during these family dinners, and there was always a since of sadness buried skin deep caused by the usual absence of the last of her biological family. But not tonight, her sister was sitting next to her and it was clear to him that Nytalia was absolutely ecstatic she was there. Her hand was clutching onto her sister's free hand the entire meal.

The only one not speaking was the troublesome Euani. She wore a silly grin on her face as she maintained her eyes on Daelia. Jorah nudged Nytalia and nodded in Euani's direction. Nytalia narrowed her eyes at Euani, who noticed it and only grinned wider.

"…and how's that man of yours doing, Daelia? Well, I hope?" Euani spoke up to her second eldest sister.

The dinner table went silent at Euani's words and like a collective consciousness, almost every member of the Zorah clan and Jorah included turned to face Daelia, mouth open. The only ones not to do so was Euani, grinning awfully, Sessora and Kalui as well as Nytalia, who buried her hand in her face. This was clearly not a topic she wanted broached.

Daelia dropped her fork on her plate and looked up; her eyes focused on the two people who she likely felt had the most obligations to explain it to: Joru and Malana. Both of them were stunned into a silence at the revelation made by the youngest Zorah daughter.

"_Your man?_" Malana was the first to speak to Daelia, repeating Euani's words.

Daelia fidgeted in her seat and dropped her eyes to her lap.

"Okay… right…so… so I-I _might_ be dating someone..." she confessed out loud to the table as a whole. Daelia's mouth quirked slightly in an attempt to smile confidently for her stunned family as she confessed her personal life wasn't quite as lonely as it seemed as of recently.

The scraping of Euani's chair caught Daelia's attention. Still grinning, she activated her omni-tool.

"Oh…OH…Wait a second, wait a second, I know how to make this even better! I have pictures!" she exclaimed as she scrolled through the digital menu.

As Daelia yelped at her sibling, the image flashed up in the expanded holoframe of the omni-tool. Sitting there in Daelia's home and deep in a conversation with Nytalia sitting next to him was a dark wavy haired, blue eyed human in a white dress shirt, unaware he was being filmed by the girls. There was a small grin on his face as he mouthed out a silent conversation with Nytalia.

Nytalia covered her eyes in embarrassment and glanced at her confused husband. He had been under the impression that he was in trouble for setting Daelia up on a bad date. But here she was in a relationship… with a human of all things!

"_Why didn't you tell me?"_ Jorah breathed into his wife's ear. All Nytalia could do was groan and shrug in return. It was clear to him that having a human date her sibling wasn't exactly a topic she wanted to broach.

Jorah could not blame her for feeling that way. Sure, humans were genuinely nice people. They were a little strange, a little slow on the uptake, but they could be rather nice. The thing was, it was one thing to befriend a human, it was quite another to go out of your way and date one. They weren't hideous creatures… they were just a little… _off_.

"Oh Ancestors, a human…really Daelia!?" Alaan rumbled out, cracking his knuckles dramatically. "Is he someone we're going to have to intimidate?!"

Jorah looked over to Daelia. She was sheet white at the teasing and sudden revelation of her relationship to her whole family. But she sat there, eyes transfixed on the human. There was a strange expression on her face, one of which Jorah had never seen from her before given to anyone outside of her family: genuine affection. Whoever this human had been, he had somehow wormed his way through Daelia's extensive emotional defenses.

"He's totally awesome, Daelia; you have _nothing_ to be ashamed of when it comes to that dreamboat!" Euani spoke to Daelia with wild enthusiasm. She turned back to parents and added, "I mean it, mom and dad. Like, he put beast mode Nytalia in her place cold for trying to guilt trip Daelia into coming here against her wishes. No hesitation, no tolerance, he just shut her down completely... it was totally hilarious!"

Jorah could not help it as he heard what unfolded between the human and his wife, he chuckled brightly. Very few could get away with that sort of accomplishment. He knew for damn sure he wasn't one of them.

"I think I should buy this guy a drink," Jorah stated out loud, trying to hide his smirk. "Shutting 'Talia down like that is quite the feat in itself… I want to know his secret now"

Receiving three quick smacks on his bicep, Jorah laughed at the scowling rage in his wife's face directed at him.

"His secret is he's a loud-mouthed, opinionated jerk… who is sweet and seemed to respect Daelia," she murmured back to him. "He was right to do that and I was… wrong…"

"I… I didn't come here to discuss _him_," Daelia suddenly gasped out to the room at large, her voice shrill. "I came here to have dinner with you all. Please... can we… we just do _that_?"

Before a response could be generated, Joru clapped his hands together, forcing everyone's attention off of Daelia and to him instead. Joru did not seem particularly thrilled with what was unfolding. Not that Daelia was dating someone, but at the general reaction to it.

"Everyone calm down and be _nice_, will you?" Joru suddenly snapped at everyone. As silence fell in the room, he turned to Daelia and added. "Daelia, I'm very happy you're out there living your life… now… When do we get to meet him? We'll go gentle, I swear."

The table exploded with laughter, and even Joru and Malana joined in this time. Jorah watched as Daelia scowled at her father for saying that.

Okay… so perhaps Joru was okay with teasing poor Daelia once and a while.

**…**

* * *

**…**

"The Vizeadmiral will see you now, Her Generalmajor."

Ending his tense pacing, Generalmajor Jochen von Hoch turned back and glared hard at Vizeadmiral Edelmann's apparent adjutant. He watched as the Korvettenkapitän withered under the glare of the Prussian sneer. Now was not the time to trifle with the enraged Heer General and the junior subordinate should have known better than to speak so disrespectfully to him; like he was some sort of second class officer for not being in the Raumstreitflotte. Jochen stormed by the young woman, his shoulder shoving her out of his path.

Perhaps he was being irrational, but could anyone really blame him? It was not every day that he had to find out updates about his family from the leader of the quarian nation. As soon as he got the call from a grave First Minister Yulaani, he was on the first shuttle flight to Deimos to confirm his newest and greatest of fears…

His mind a clouded fog, Jochen opened the door to the offices of the Kommandant of the naval academy. He closed the door behind him and turned to face the naval officer sitting behind his desk, working away on whatever he was doing.

"Generalmajor Von Hoch, this is a surprise," Vizeadmiral Edelmann spoke up as he held his focus on writing his reports. "What brings a land-loving Heer man nearly 78 million kilometres from the safety of the Reich and into the frontier?"

Ignoring the barb offered up in the name of friendly inter-service rivalry, Jochen stepped forward.

"I make it a habit to check in with my elder children's educators," he explained to his Raumstreitflotte counterpart. "My son is usually in need of it, but Charlotte is rarely in need of my micromanaging. She keeps me well informed of her progress through the academy."

The Generalmajor paused and inhaled.

"Charlotte is punctual, clockwork in her correspondence," Jochen spoke up again, barely containing his quivering tone as he stared down on the Vizeadmiral. "She is my pride and joy, so it came as no small amount of surprise that she has not contacted me in over three weeks. She has also ignored both mine and her mother's correspondence. What is going on here?"

At long last Vizeadmiral Edelmann looked up from his work and met Von Hoch's carefully crafted Prussian hawk glare. It was the sort of look that made many Heer officers lose their resolve. Naval officers though… it was less effective. They were always the rebellious sort. They did not put a lot of respect in the Prussian militarism.

"Are you aware of Training Operation 415?" Edelmann inquired finally, his tone almost lazy. "It is a program enacted by the quarian navy in response to their belief that the Raumstreitflotte requires hands on trained officers. It's an apprenticeship program of sorts. Your daughter was selected by Captain Maron'Raan vas Vengeance of Rannoch as his personal student… and judging from your expression, you are quite aware of the implication."

Remaining dead silent, Jochen leaned forward and wrapped his hands on the edge of the desk. Yes… yes he was well aware of what the Vizeadmiral was telling him.

"I am personal friends with First Minister Yulaani," Jochen breathed faintly, his eyes wide and nearly crazed in appearance. "You are telling me my eldest child is on her way to her first combat engagement. And in your infinite wisdom, you permitted the personnel transfer of an undereducated, overly eager student into one of the flagships of the quarian fleet being sent to contested space?"

Vizeadmiral Edelmann pushed his rolling seat backwards and stood up from his desk. He too pressed his hands against his table and leaned forward to stare back at the Heer officer dead in the eyes.

"I think you vastly understate the talents your daughter possess, Herr Generalmajor."

That was not the answer which the father wanted to hear. Not in the slightest.

"I am well aware of the talents of my flesh and blood. I saw to it _personally_!" the Generalmajor snapped at the Vizeadmiral. "My concerns are that she is now halfway across the galaxy waging war on pirates whilst her education remains incomplete! Why could you not have run this Maron'Raan's offer through me first?"

"Because my students do not need the permission of their parents, no matter far up the command chain and how many friends they may have," Edelmann ripped into the father viciously. "She is an adult and a sailor in the Raumstreitflotte; and _goddammit_ she will be respected as one, even by you!"

The silence was palpable, but it was Jochen who the one to break first. Pulling his hands off the desk, he ran them over his face.

"_I know…_" Jochen finally relented reluctantly. "Forgive my meddling. I know you have children as well, but they are not yet of age to begin service to the Reich. They'll likely not see service against the geth. My eldest will. I am just… concerned."

The vanishing anger in Jochen's tone served to bring the tension building in the room to a standstill, then to relaxation. Edelmann's glare faded as he finally realized that Von Hoch was here not as a pissed off officer but as a concerned father. Edelmann pulled back his aggressive stance and instead stood upright, his hands falling to his side as he inspected the worried Heer officer.

"It is rightfully so that a father feels that; but you must remember she is on the largest ship the quarians ever built and has an extremely competent Captain she serves now," the Vizeadmiral reminded the Generalmajor. "I will not say that she will be safe… but she will have the best possible odds of getting through her first tour unscathed."

They were not comforting words. But to be fair, the only comforting words Jochen could have heard was to find out that the mission was being scrapped and his baby would be returning back home to him. It was beyond his control now. All which he could do now was go home and keep his daughter in his prayers until her safe return home.

That is if she ever returned… So many variables, so many scenarios where she did not survive…

"Right, and I'm sure those platitudes will comfort my wife," Jochen grumbled as his mood shifted back to a state of brooding as he tried to push his worst fears into the back of his mind. "Now if you'll excuse me, I suppose my business here is concluded."

Edelmann nodded and saluted to Jochen, who in turn returned the gesture, then offered his hand out to the Vizeadmiral. As soon as he shook his hand, he let go and silently begun drawing his will up in his mind. Even if Charlotte escaped her first tour unscathed, Jochen would not when it came to the wrath of his Constanze when she found out what he had been keeping from her…

**…**

* * *

**…**

"_Ontaria Station, this is Malkai. Has there been a scheduled relay jump into the system? Hul Relay has lit up."_

Setting down his personal datapad as he heard the Destroyer _Malkai's_ open transmission, Martok scanned the Hul Relay manifest carefully for the list of ships with permission to make a jump into the system.

"Yes," he confirmed to the Destroyer's communication officer. "A freighter _Jalir_ from Omega… manifest labels her as one of Miss T'Loak's cargo haulers."

"_Acknowledged, standing down."_

Relaxing once again, Martok continued watching his news on his datapad. They could not be too careful about the security of the secret station. Not only was their concern about potential council race vessels stumbling on it, but Aria T'Loak's rivals from Omega right up to the head of the Omega Station cartel himself. This place was a staging ground for Aria to launch a takeover of Omega from. It was a goal that Martok stood firmly behind his leader with. Aria T'Loak was a rising star. He would be honoured to stand at her side… and move up to station Chief of Omega in the process…

In a flash a vessel came out of Mass Relay jump. Martok blinked all four of his eyes as his mouth dropped open at the sight. That was no Cargo hauler. It was a super dreadnaught. Long, angular and jagged. There was no noticeable command deck, no ship identifiers of any sort. It was just a 6 kilometre long, kilometer and a half wide beautiful monstrosity and it was on a bearing aimed directly onto Ontaria Station at a surprising speed for its size.

"That's no freighter! That's no damn freighter at all!" Martok screamed to his subordinates. "Raise the kinetic barriers! Alert the fleet!"

"The network is being jammed!" one of his turian underlings answered his orders "Everyone is deafened!"

The communication centre watched in horror as the beam weapons tightened into a singular wave, slicing right through the Destroyer speeding on an intercept course with the Dreadnaught. Missile pods from the alien Dreadnaught fired, creating long winding trails as they targeted the smaller fighters escorting the destroyed _Malkai_, turning them into small explosions and dust. Bright electro magnet pulsed based weaponry fried the vessels in mooring around the station with an impressive accuracy.

Cruisers, Frigates, even the ex-turian navy Dreadnaught _Primarius _moved against the behemoth vessel. It did not stall the alien ship, it did not pause, and it did not maneuver. It only fired on each ship that got too close to it and absorbed whatever the security fleet could throw at it without any noticeable damage. No matter what moved against the alien vessel, it still lumbered on towards the space station like an ominous invulnerable spectre.

A beam of blue light projected out of the super dreadnaught. One singular beam and it sliced through the _Primarius' _stern like a hand cutting through water. Martok heard the screaming coming from the _Primarius_ bridge crew, then silence as the Dreadnaught's engines melted down and exploded, turning the ship into a flash of light.

As the Relay behind the alien dreadnaught lit back up and more ships of a similar profile poured into the system. Still firing on the fleet in orbit of the Ontaria, smaller vessels poured out of the dreadnaught. Boarders, the aliens were not there to destroy everything they saw. They were there to take the station in one piece.

"Alert Ontaria Station security forces…" he cried out to his staff. "Alert everyone with a _fucking_ gun! Get the anti-ship weaponry online! We need to take out as many of these boarder ships as we can!"

"Someone has disabled the stations defenses! We're totally exposed!"

For the first in a long time, Martok Balak knew what fear felt like again. Ontaria station stood defenceless to the might of this alien invasion and nowhere in his fear clouded mind did he realize that Aria T'Loak's true allies had arrived on the galactic scene.

**…**

* * *

**…**

Walking through the hallways of her childhood home, Daelia'Vael's eyes scanned the many pictures and mementoes collected over the years by Malana and Joru. If there was one thing that the Zorah clan could be labelled as, it was extremely family oriented. Especially so once Halid'Zorah passed on.

There were so many memories staring back at her, and yet so few involving her.

For her first years in the custody of the Zorah clan, she was not… well. Following the attack on her family, and the trauma she endured as a child she spent the next two years medically institutionalized for her mental rehabilitation. Much of that time she was apparently catatonic, having shut down after she was pulled out a burning wreck and nearly shot to death. How she recovered from it was a miracle… in some ways a divine providence. As she got older, she was sent along to private schools. For the longest time Daelia assumed it was a dislike for her. She did not mind not being in the Zorah house. She liked school. Especially school where she had no serious interactions with peers. She would be left alone with her books and teachers to learn.

As she grew older still, she learned it was not a dislike for her that motivated a distance between her and the Zorah's. She learned more about that dark time from Nytalia, she quickly learned that both Joru and Malana were in the hospital every single day to check up on her. They consulted her doctors and kept up to date on her progress. They even took courses in how to manage her condition from professionals. School was private and distant to give her a chance to develop as her own person rather than latching on and being dependent on others, or worse shutting down entirely. Nytalia remembered just how much Joru and Malana had _hated_ sending her off, but it was ultimately for the good of Daelia, rather than making them feel better about it.

Neither of them ever brought up what they did for her, It was like it was just expected out of them as her caretakers. It was the sort of dedication that Daelia wanted to acknowledge, but could never find the right words to express just what it meant to her. So it remained unspoken and regretfully at times forgotten even.

Perhaps that was why it was so difficult for Daelia to give an answer to Adam's revelation. She did not know if she could produce the same sort of dedication to his child as Joru and Malana did for her. It was not fair to anyone that she remained cold and indifferent to the girl. She would not be some sort of villainous step-mother from human fairy tales to the poor girl. It was not right to do that. Adam and Amala deserved all the happiness in the world. Adam deserved a woman who could be a partner in his fatherhood and Amala deserved a mother.

As much as she may have wanted to be there… she just did not know if she could…

A hand wrapped around her back, making Daelia tighten right up as she cut through her painful musings. Standing there was Malana, smiling kindly at her. Daelia quirked her lips into a small nervous smile in return and turned to properly face her adopted mother.

"Can we speak, Daelia?" Malana requested softly, her head tilting slightly as she gestured to the open study Joru used to work.

Daelia nodded and followed Malana a few steps behind the older woman. She knew where this was going. It would be about Adam. While she might have felt affection for her, she cursed that Euani for spilling Daelia's private life like that in the open. None of them seemed particularly thrilled that she was seeing a human. She supposed that was expected. Humans and quarians dating was not common and a volatile mix… apparently.

Letting Malana take her hand, Daelia was guided to the couch along the far side of the room. Together they sat down, but Malana did not release her hands as Daelia had expected. She remained firmly fixed to her adopted child. She was still smiling, but it was different. She appeared to be inspecting her.

"I'm sorry about the teasing earlier," she spoke gravely. "You know how they get whenever you show up. I've tried explaining to the kids that you're not as receptive to the teasing as they are… and I guess I'm not entirely innocent either, am I?"

Staring at Malana, who was struggling not to laugh, Daelia shook her head. No, Malana was not at all an innocent party in what happened.

"It's… fine," she absolved Malana of any responsibility for what occurred at dinner." I'm trying to be more involved with this… family. Nytalia has been upset that I do not come as often as I should. She is right to be, I haven't been particularly grateful for everything you both have done for me."

"If this was entirely for Nytalia, then I'm sure you would have made the effort a lot sooner," was Malana's response. "This has to do with this _human_… I'm sorry, _man_, in your life," she amended quickly." I suppose he reminded you not to listen to the pressures of others. You came when you wanted to. We expected nothing less from you."

Daelia struggled to maintain her neutral expression as she heard Malana seem to struggle with the concept of Daelia dating a human. She was not a bigoted woman by any means. Even Daelia had to admit it must have seemed odd. She had a rather sordid history with humans. To suddenly be dating one must have been a rather unexpected sight for the guardian.

But Adam wasn't like the other humans… Adam was… well… almost quarian in some ways…

"His name is Adam… Adam Ackerson…" Daelia informed Malana gingerly. "He… yes… yes, I suppose it has something to do with he has placed a certain influence. A few times he's addressed how important having family is. He's an ethnic German. His family did not approve that he left North America for the Reich. He has been more or less cut off from them ever since. He's very… lonely, I think. He doesn't have many people in his life, but those he has… he's utterly loyal to them... it's… _sweet_..."

Daelia trailed off, her thoughts turning back to her time spent with Adam. He was a wonderful, smart and thoughtful person. She would give almost anything to return back to the days before this whole mess unfolded. Back when they barely knew one another. It was the mystery of it all that was a real thrill. Now things were real, heavy and burdened now with a full acknowledgement of who they really were. She, an emotionally damaged, disabled social pariah and him, a still obviously grieving, angry and a struggling father attempting to navigate through the emotional isolation the Reich had imposed.

Malana's mouth widened into a smile once more.

"That sounds very familiar," she mused out loud. "I can see why you hold him with such high regard. And to echo Joru, when will we get to meet this Adam?"

Choking on her response for a moment, all she could do was shrug at Malana. She felt so incredibly stupid.

"Oh... probably never," she breathed, a dull pang of guilt filling her. "I… think I screwed it all up. We had a conversation. Truths were told; and he told me to take some time to think about it. I did… but that was over three weeks ago. I haven't spoken to him since."

Daelia watched as Malana winced at the statement. She might not have been sure of Daelia dating a human, but even that sort of lull in their relationship sounded cruel and unusual to her.

"Daelia, you know that I love you unconditionally," Malana spoke up carefully. "You know that I have never wanted to judge your behaviour -it's not in my, or anyone's place to- but… oh… _Daelia_, that's not good. That's not good at _all_…"

Daelia nodded her head. She was glad that Malana was not letting her off the hook. She deserved every ounce of ostracization for the mess that was still unfolding.

"I know… Ancestors forgive me, I know it's not good," Daelia weakly agreed with her. "Adam hasn't deserved this hesitation. He told me to take some time to think what he told me over, but I am confident he did not mean _this_ much time. It's just I don't know where I stand on it. A part of me accepts it, but another part of me just screams that I am going to… going…. going to mess it all up and hurt him in the process. He's… he's special. He doesn't deserve any more stress then he already has. I don't want to put _my_ problems onto him."

"Well you need to make this right. No matter where you stand with what he's told you," Malana replied without a pause. "You either support it or you break it off. It's not fair to either of you to be in this sort of emotional limbo. It's hurting two people, and not just him."

Daelia laughed nervously. It was an awkward utterance that earned an arch of Malana's eyebrow. She supposed it was time to come clean.

"Three people… he has a daughter," she blurted out to her adopted mother. "He has a daughter and he's a widower; that was the secret he admitted. That's why I've been so evasive with him."

Malana's eye's widened at Daelia finally breaking down to confess what was going on. Even saying it out loud felt strange to her. But now it was out in the open. Daelia pried her hands away from Malana and instead gripped her knees as she waited for the woman to put together an opinion.

"Then I suppose that would certainly complicate matters for you," Malana finally breathed, her voice faint as she laced her hands together in her lap. "This is a whole other level of responsibility you are talking about now. Do you… do you feel like you could make the effort to not only open up to another person, but to a child as well?"

Once again all Daelia could do was shrug, at least at first. Fidgeting slightly, she bowed her head and quietly repeated the question she had had been mulling over these past three weeks. Could she do it? Could she be more than just an educator to a child?

"I… don't know… I don't know if I can," she confessed to Malana weakly. She paused and then looked her in the eye and with a slight shake of her head, added, "But the weird thing is… I- I think… I think that a part of me wants to _try_. It doesn't have to be perfect right? I don't... have to be _perfect_. I just need to _try_… right?"

There was the briefest of pauses, but Daelia got her answer from Malana quicker than she thought it would come. It came in the form of a hug.

**…**

* * *

**…**

The gunfire echoing throughout the space station was a steady, professional stream of fire compared to the scattered resistance it was battling. It would only be a matter of time now before total resistance collapsed against the unstoppable tide that was the quarian and human assault on her station.

"Mistress T'Loak, shouldn't we take cover?"

Ignoring her Lieutenant's pleas, Aria T'Loak sipped her drink. She was sitting behind bullet and blastproof glass. She watched as her pirates and hired guns took up positions around the club, the civilians in her employ from dancers to service crew were in a panic. She could not care less. They were all dead. She was just here to watch the show unfold.

Aria remained unmoved as she watched the doors to the nightclub blew wide open and blue toned tracer fire exploded into the club indiscriminately, hitting civilian and irregular forces alike. Through the black smoke marched a line of heavily armed and armoured Raumstreitflotte Heavy Assault Troops. The rounds being fired at them deflected off their top-of-the-line power armor. In comparison, the lightly armoured pirates were torn to pieces by the marines. Two of the marines stepped out of formation armed with flamethrowers. They spat fire on those smart enough to take cover.

It was a horrifyingly glorious sight to behold. It was a purely primitive way to drive their enemies into fear and submission. It was… exciting.

In between the gaps of the Raumstreitflotte Heavy Assault Troops came the Quarian Marines. Lighter armoured than their human comrades in arms, they made up for that with sheer determination. They fearlessly rushed through club, taking up positions to set up their tripod medium machine guns to return fire on the turians, batarians, salarians, krogan and asari attempting to curtail their inevitable collapse and death. The humans continued laying down their cover fire until they too got behind cover with the quarians. It was a real testament to the years of integration the quarians and humans worked through.

If this was a taste of what was to come, then something terrible was about to be unleashed on the galaxy.

The firefight was now a slogging match. Aria watched as a krogan went into a blood rage and charged a group of quarian marines, knocking three down and tossing another halfway across the room. The quarians responded by simultaneously leaping onto the berserker, using everything they could to stop the beast –knives, shock sticks, pistols- eventually they were drenched in what remained of the krogan after they were done pacifying it.

The humans, on the other hand had their focus turned to the more organized of the pirates. Aria was witnessing a first in history. Humans and turians were locked in battle. The Heavy Troopers advanced on the turian position fearlessly, their large rifles banging away at the turians improvised defense.

Sudden thumping caught Aria's attention. Sure enough, marching into the club came four Witwenmacher Anti-Infantry Assault Walkers -dark grey, five metres tall and armed to the teeth. Germans loved their silly little nicknames for their weapons platforms –Grille, German for cricket… Hummel, German for bumblebee... and then came the nicknames that weren't subtle. Witwenmacher was German for _Widowmaker._

With a whine, the walker's rotary cannons whirled to life as they turned their weapons on the pirates. The squad of walkers somehow made the battle louder as the whirling of the rotary cannons turned into screeching as they fired and the screams of the pirates became blood curdling. Aria ignored the screaming of her own men as they watched the sight unfold before their eyes.

As the screaming descended into moaning, and the guns fell quiet, the warzone filled up with smoke billowed through the open club. Aria watched as the human and quarian soldiers pulled themselves out of their positions. None of them made any sort of celebratory action. They remained silent; some of them were drawing their weapons back up to the ready in order to finish the job at hand. One by one the soldiers moved up and down the club, pulling the debris out of their way, occasionally shooting whoever might have survived the one sided fight.

And just in time too. As the walkers thudded out of the room to search and destroy whatever stragglers that might have been left, in walked two dozen formally uniformed quarian and human naval officers, their hands behind their backs as they chatted amongst each other. They stepped over the first pile of corpses as though it was nothing new. For most of them, it was likely not.

"This can't be happening… oh Goddess this can't be happening…" she heard Valara sobbed under the table.

It really was to be expected. For the past fifty years the quarians could not leave any survivors, any loose ends to let their secrets out to the rest of the galaxy. No one but her was permitted contact with the self-exiled quarians. Anyone who came along and saw what was happening was subject to immediate termination. As that was the case, Aria quickly learned not to get attached to her underlings.

Aria reached under the table and pulled out her pistol. Without hesitation, she shot both Valara and Oliana once in the back of the head each. The action made the soldiers turn their weapons up at her. Aria immediately dropped her weapon on the ground, raised her hands and stood up.

As bad as a summarily execution may have seemed, it was a kindness compared to what happened to any asari she brought along with her –whether they were inadvertently hired, or the quarians ordered for them. The quarians did not say it, but Aria knew that the asari they took were likely being dissected and studied for their biotic abilities. It was an unnerving practice, but it seemed that the quarians wanted to get back into the practice of biotic acclimation, and naturally to pass it along to the more numerous humans. Biotic assault troops would be a very valuable wartime asset against the geth. It was one powerful ability the geth were incapable of countering.

It took all of Aria's nerves not to shudder as she thought about just what other asari endured at the hands of this union. Worst yet, they always needed more subjects…

Yes, the Quarian Mandate was a far cry from the quarians left behind half a century prior. They were supposed to be taming the human species, molding them into warriors capable of restraint; and while it seemed to be working, the humans were not the only ones learning. They were also the teachers as well. She had been to earth before many times, she walked through the ruins of Germany, saw the scorched earth policy in the Soviet Union. She knew the human's capacity for violence and it seemed to her that the quarians were learning more from the humans then the other way around.

Quarians were adopting delightful little quirks from the humans they were uplifting. Gone were the carefree, old souls that were akin to short lived asari, these quarians were extreme paranoids, aggressive and cruel unlike anything she saw before in them. Their media screamed propaganda against every race in the council, to such a degree that it was frightening. The entire species was now fuelled on a volatile mixture of shame, hatred and vengeance. It was a powerful concoction indeed.

The combination of smarts, technology, a half century of nonstop rearmament, a primitive client race and utter paranoid ruthlessness would likely serve to shock even the most stoic members of the turian hierarchy into deference. In short, the quarians were never going to be the same race they once had been. If anyone threatened their survival, they would likely sooner battle to the death before ceding an inch of ground to their enemies. It had all the markings of a bloodbath.

Aria exhaled and downed her drink. Total interstellar war in her lifetime seemed all the more likely these days. One slip up and the quarians would be choking the life out of the Council. The quarian/human union would likely lose, but the sheer damage that they could do to the larger organization would likely leave the Council weaker than at any point in its existence.

"It took you long enough," Aria spoke first, breaking the silence as she stepped out of her cover to join the human and quarian military personnel.

The quarian and human naval officers speaking amongst themselves finally looked up and turned their attention to the asari. Each of them wore an expression of disgust, like dealing with the unscrupulous asari was beneath their stature. Eventually they turned away from the bodies and approached her booth. They met each other halfway. Aria stopped and held her ground as she scanned the many eyes maintaining their sharp disciplined gaze on her.

After several moments, one of them stepped forward. It was a male quarian Captain by markings on his jacket collar. His blank expression formed into an almost charismatic smile as he stood there, not minding in the slightest as turian blood pooled around his jackboots.

"Our apologies for our tardiness," the leading officer addressed her finally. "We decided to attempt to capture as much of the pirate fleet as we could. We could always use more fire ships… Captain Maron'Raan. And you must be Aria T'Loak, the soon-to-be-infamous queen of Afterlife. "

"That remains to be determined. I am growing awfully exhausted by this little game of subterfuge," Aria confessed as she followed the quarian. She glanced back to the collection of officers trailing behind her and added, "I suppose congratulations are in order. The quarians are back into the civilized galaxy once again; and it seems they are already bringing their new pets with them."

Aria privately smirked as she heard a low grumbling come from the humans in the group. It was always a delight for her to remind them what they really were: pets… _slaves_… not much separated the humans from the geth, no matter how many lies the quarians told their client race about their so-called _equal partnership_.

"Yes, I suppose we are," the quarian returned, he paused and dropping his tone to a dangerous tone, he added. "And you would do well treating our human compatriots with respect. They will make up the bulk of the forces that take Omega for you."

Aria arched her brow at the defiance of the commander of the taskforce. It seemed as though he was one of the true believers. He was someone who believed the theatrics of a genuine human/quarian kinship like it was real. It was a foolish mistake, indeed.

"…And during each of my trips to Earth, I have been growing more and more impatient with getting my army," she snapped back as her hands laced behind her back. "Thankfully for you, your arrival has more or less sated the urge of late to tell all to my friend and new Councillor Alena Tevos all about what will happen in the next year…"

She trailed off as the sliding doors to the juncture open. Out staggered Martok Balak, station chief of the Ontaria Station… well former station chief. He was riddled with bullet holes, and his pistol in gripped weakly in his hand. Behind him was a quarian and human marine, their weapons drawn on the batarians. They both were chuckling and speaking to each other in amused German.

Balak staggered towards Aria and collapsed in front of her and Captain Raan. His eyes rolled over to the Captain briefly before he turned back to Aria. He looked like he had been betrayed by her. What did the idiot expect? Some sort of loyalty from her? He was a pirate and this… this was a cutthroat business he had ventured into.

"…why?" he begged Aria for an answer.

Aria was spared an answer. Captain Raan withdrew his sidearm and cleanly shot the batarian right between his eyes. There was no hesitation on Raan's part, nor any mercy or regret; he just shot the dying man without a pause. In so doing he had sent Aria a message. The quarian cause would not be intimidated by her threats.

"Then hopefully this should please you," Captain Raan spoke as he put his weapon away and they stepped over his body, gesturing back to his trailing officers, his hand pointing to the youngest girl in particular. "This human is Charlotte von Hoch. She is the daughter of Generalmajor Jochen von Hoch, the selected general who will take Omega Station for you."

Aria smirked slightly and turned from the Captain and focused her attention on the pretty young human standing amongst the group of quarians and older humans. She slinked forward and grazed the girl's cheek –and that was what she was, no more than a girl- Frankly she was surprised the humans would be so open to throwing their young into combat so easily. What a ruthless species…

"That is interesting," she breathed, inspecting the child carefully. "I knew your grandfather when he was still neck deep with now violently denounced Nazi Party… does it bother you to be reminded that your quarian masters were quite okay with supporting them until their genocidal ways were exposed, and only did so out of concern of what the other species would think? Does it bother you that your Grandmother's Grandmother ignored the repressions and genocide purposefully? Oh, Hoch, I know all the dirty little secrets of your family… and when you run into your father, you better tell him all about me. If he thinks he's in charge of my campaign, he better think twice…"

Running a finger along the girl's lip, Aria turned back to Captain Raan, who looked perturbed by her words, but chose to remain silent. She smirked again and joined him.

"So it's finally happening now; the first step towards plunging the entire galaxy into a vicious war," Aria pressed on as they continued making their way towards the command station of Ontaria Station. "I must admit I'm ecstatic this job is nearing an end. Excursions into the Veil have been a dangerous practice. It took them fifty years, but the idiots I hire are starting to realize something is amiss…"

Captain Raan merely smiled at the comment, uninterested by her work to keep the quarian military up-to-date about the latest geth developments. It was the expected response, really. He was not a scientist, he was a soldier.

"You're certainly not quite the quarians that vanished 50 galactic standard years ago," Aria mused as they passed by a line of executed civilians being carried to the nearest airlock by the troops. "The galaxy will be in for quite the shock when you lot return in full. Considering their treatment of those left behind, some might be in fear of a terrible vengeance…"

Captain Raan did not reply to her carefully worded observation as well. He was by far more interested in inspecting his new station rather than listening to the fate of the nearly one hundred thousand quarians that were left behind after they chose to ignore the order to return back to the Migrant Fleet. It was understandable why. For generations these quarians were marked as traitors. Choosing what they assumed was the easy path rather than staking a claim on their new world.

"Do you mean the scraps that did not answer the Admiralty Call of Return?" the girl named Charlotte blurted out. "What happened with them?"

Aria glanced back at the girl.

"What do you think happened to them the moment the threat of military force from a 35,000 strong fleet was no longer protecting them?" Aria drawled as she stared at the Hoch child. "They were forcibly removed from all Citadel membership worlds and stations they were settled on and now they do what quarians were doing before your people vanished in to human space. They bought and salvaged whatever ships they could get and started their own fleet."

That caught Raan's attention. He paused and turned back to face Aria.

"A second Migrant Fleet?" he echoed, his eyes narrowed at the information he received.

Aria inclined her head.

"It's… significantly less impressive then what you brought out to exterminate these pirates and perhaps a quarter the size of your Migrant Fleet," she informed the ship captain. "The few quarians I have seen are now officially confined to environmental suits for survival… even on their own fleet. Tragic, really…"

Aria's false lament for the fate of the abandoned quarians fell on deaf ears. Captain Raan continued his marching pace towards the command station.

"Not even a trace of sympathy for the fools?" Aria prodded the captain, keeping herself two steps behind the quarian. "I remember a time when quarians were so sensitive, old souls. I see that humanity has toughened you up. Your leaders thought you could tame them; settle their violence down to a manageable level. But no… the quarians have turned from a soft spoken, gentle people into a paranoid military state. In the end… you became them."

"The sacrifice of our _old souls_ was a necessary one. And as for the _scraps_… they are _traitors _–marks of shame for those clan members who stayed with the fleet while they sought not to make the sacrifice required for our species survival and reorganization," Raan growled at her. "They wanted the vices of extranet and other such frivolous, cheap amusements your degenerate_,_ _criminal_ races provide. I don't care about their misery. In the end they will surrender their ships to us, they will be forcibly integrated back into the rest of our race and likely pressed into military service, but their shame will never be forgotten by the true quarians. That is my guarantee to _you_…"

Maron'Raan turned away and spoke out in the brutish human tongue to a group of idly heavy marines. They drew their weapons and made their way over to him. Raan turned back and gestured for his officers to step forward. As they pushed by Aria and Aria was suddenly grabbed by one of the heavy troops, Raan stepped forward and stood nearly nose to nose with the suddenly restrained asari.

"Now get off my station standby your orders… _pet._" He stated, looking highly as amused as he watched the asari crime lord get dragged away by his men.

Aria glowered as the ship officers turned the corner and left. She could not believe it, but she was actually missed dealing with Joachim and Hanala Hoch. Perhaps it was time to pay a visit…

**…**

* * *

**…**

**Again, I am sorry for the massive delay that has occurred. I have been doing a lot of thinking about this story and I decided a month ago or so that I was wrapping this story up and moving on but I did not know how many chapters that would be. Well, I decided, and next chapter will be the final one for this story. I have been reorganizing the next two stories and deciding what to keep and toss out in terms of the original projected twenty five chapters for Integration. It's just time to pack up and move on.**

**Next chapter will be short and sweet…and hopefully completed before December.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	12. Rectification

**Chapter Twelve: Rectification**

**...**

'_She has been referred to by many as the 'The Shadow of Daedalus Foundation'. Rarely taking interviews or speaking publicly as her colleague and friend John Hoch, nor is she flamboyant enough to remove her own natural arm as a publicity stunt. Instead of these drastic draws of attention, Alexandria McKellan instead keeps herself low key, but plays a vital role as not only the head of Research and Development just as the advocate of morality and responsibility which the largest human oriented bio-augmentation and quarian adaptive science is obligated to; No matter the geo-political positions the world is entrenched in._

_While there has certainly been great successes, but failures have loomed over the company these past few years following President Reagan's renewed sanctions against the 'Evil Empire' of the German Reich. The many medical breakthroughs of Daedalus Foundation –including a preventative vaccination for the HIV-AIDS Virus has not dissuaded the continued attempt at suppressing the growing German and quarian influences on the Western Hemisphere. The situation has grown so agitating that John Hoch -the ever affable businessman has publicly railed against the United States government. Even openly suggesting that it was high time for the Reich and the Mandate perform some 'Dreadnought Diplomacy', a not too subtle allusion back to the days of Perry's Opening of Japan in 1853. With the huge influence John Hoch has in the German Reich, such threatening talk cannot be simply dismissed easily._

_But Alexandria McKellan sees it differently. To the Edinburgh born woman, she sees Hoch's annoyance as bluster. Influential as he may be, he knows better than to wish for a devastatingly short and one sided war against the United States. John Hoch has seen war first hand during the Third German-Soviet war. He lost his younger brother to the conflict. His family suffered most terribly during the German Civil War of 1943. Violence, according to her, is only the language of the family, but not an action to undertake._

"_The Hoch family are grim realists. They are ready to fight for their beliefs at any given moment, but do not mistake their willingness as a sign of ruthless aggression. They have seen the cost of war first hand. John's passion to want to heal the world sometime is mired by his blood instinct to fight for his beliefs until either his enemy is vanquished, or he is."_

_As fatalistic as this may sound like to anyone outside the Hoch family or their immediate circle, Doctor McKellan insists that this sort of passion is exactly what is required for a man such as John Hoch; that his goals are purely focused on the ever ceaseless goal of improving life for all and that despite his growing influences, would never use it to sway the political and military leadership of the Reich, nor make policy._

"_It's… refreshing to have an employer that is so emotional, so passionate in his work. Someone who believes so much in the whole of the human race," Alexandria addressed the interviewer. "Yes… undoubtedly John is a show boat. He's loud and obnoxious. But it is all just an image. A means to grab your attention so that the powers the be no matter their political and ideological chance will take a step back from each other's throats and see all the possibility that he sees. To see the potential we as a species has once we set aside our squabbles, join our quarian siblings and reach to the stars together. He believes in that sort of future… so do I… and hopefully we will not alone in that."_

_Although John Hoch is known for his highly unorthodox actions, he is not alone in the strange behaviour. Recently Doctor McKellan raised eyebrows when she recently tied the knot with 20 year old medical student named Adam Ackerson-_

Ripping the ear buds from out of her ears, Daelia'Vael threw them against the window and stared hard at the silent conversation between the interviewer and Alexandria McKellan. She watched as the woman smiled, laughed and presumably told amusing anecdotes about her young husband, of whom she would soon abandon in a few short years simply because she was sick.

"Are you alright, Fraulein?"

Forcing her eyes away from the now silent conversation occurring between the interviewer and Alexandria, Daelia nodded to the driver and slid slightly over to rest her head against the side window, her fingers switching off her datapad.

For the past 19 hours, Daelia's life consisted of nothing but exploration in the woman who was Alexandria McKellan… technically Ackerson, but she made a point not to refer to her married name in any way shape or form. She spent the night at the Zorah's, but she could not sleep. Not with the immense guilt she had been feeling following her conversation with Malana. So instead she began her research. Everything she could find on John Hoch's advisor: every published research paper, thesis, periodical piece, she watched every interview she could find on the video sharing site _Youshare_. She looked at every picture posted of her on line, from her youth to the last known publicity pictures taken just before she abandoned Adam and fled Earth.

From what she had gathered, despite irresponsibly betraying Adam in the way that she had, Alexandria was nearly saint-like. She was… like… the perfect person. She was someone who Daelia could never have competed against. She was charming and passionate in what she did; and in her life she had managed to make a cold hearted industrialist such as John Hoch into a beloved figure. That was all her doing.

Daelia reached into her jacket pocket and produced her pill bottle cocktail. Miserably she took one of each: her anti-anxiety, her stabilizers and her anti-depressant as she maintained her eyes on the moving sidewalk leading to the ultra-exclusive Wannsee community.

A rather peculiar feeling had arisen in the quarian. It had left her with a painful strain in her chest. It felt tight, like she was about to lose control of everything she had worked so hard to keep a control over. It was some strange, irrational feeling that not only left her angry at a woman who had died years ago, but wishing that she had somehow found a way to convince Adam that he would have been better off seeking _her_ out all those years ago.

Of course… that might have been a little awkward. Being that when he was 19 or 20, she would have been 14 or 15. While she might not have minded it, other certainly would have…

Inwardly groaning as she tried to banish the thoughts of her teenage-self dating a much older man, Daelia pulled her head away from the window and silently practiced her breathing exercises as she waited for the familiar comfort that was the pharmaceutical haze to wash over her like a wave. One hand reached into her jacket pocket and clutched her rosary tightly. She needed to be back in control of her feelings. This sort of childish, irrational hatred of Alexandria might have been justified in some sense considering what she had put Adam through, but it was not helping. She could not sit there and seriously compare herself to Alexandria McKellan.

… Even if she up and abandoned Adam the moment things got difficult for her…

Daelia blinked… Oh Ancestors… she had done to Adam as his late wife did to her. Perhaps nowhere near the same length of time, nor had she abandoned a child… but it was somewhat similar! She had to find a way to make this right. She could only hope now that she could.

Her mind clouded with a serious guilt, Daelia only was faintly aware that the car slow down and come to a halt. In front of her, the driver turned around, his expression was seemingly apologetic.

"It appears this is as close as I can get you, Fraulein," was the driver's sincere voiced apology. "I'm afraid you'll have to walk the rest of the way."

Murmuring a small "thank you" to the driver, Daelia gathered her datapad, dumped it into her tote bag, pulled out her credit chit and waved it over the transaction device with a small jerk of her hand. Daelia unsteadily got out of the car and glanced around at the security both patrolling and on sentry duty. Surrounding what apparently was the only way in and out of the heavily fortified Wannsee community.

These guards were not the police, or even the Feldgendarmerie. These were regular Heer troops wearing the traditional olive toned soft uniforms of their service branch as well as the Stahlhelm's which hung low over their eyes, wiping out any sense of distinctive features. It was a uniform virtually unchanged since the Second World War. Daelia supposed that in some ways it was unsurprising that they were here when one considered how many winter homes in Wannsee must have housed General staff officers and their families.

Obviously they no longer wore this choice of gear into combat, but this choice seemed to be more of a traditional choice for service inside the country. The biggest difference was three things: they clutched modern mass accelerator rifles, human women amongst the detail and quarians in Heer garb of both genders were looking almost immune to a cold that sent shivers into most sturdy quarians. Considering that many thousands of quarian elected to live in the Reich, it was only natural for the youth to do their duties to their adopted fatherland. The Wehrmacht had a considerably more open door policy to quarian volunteers then she recalled the much more isolationist minded Mandate Defence Force had.

As Daelia exhaled and started her slow, deliberate pace towards the front gates to the community, she silently thanked her medications for kicking in as quickly as they had.

**…**

* * *

**…**

Checking his watch, Generaloberst Karl-Gerd von Rundstedt looked up to the gathering of Heer, Kriegsmarine, Luftwaffe and Raumstreitflotte men gathered around Kaiser Victor Marius and sighed.

Listening to the Kaiser discuss war was starting to get old fast. Silently he wondered if this was anything at all like what his Grandfather experienced when in high level military talks with Corporal Hitler –the fastest ranking man in the history of the German armed forces…

As junior member of the Wehrmacht Council, he did not have much of a say in any of the discussions. While that may have been, the head of the Council Generalfeldmarschall Rüdiger von Manstein had assured him that the lack say in matters involving the council would only be a temporary manner. The Council itself was extremely possessive of their powerbase. They did not like newcomers who might potentially shake their foundation.

Well Karl-Gerd von Rundstedt had no intentions of doing it. Oh… sure, he could do it though. It had been Grandfather Gerd von Rundstedt who had created the alliance between quarian and man; it was he who set up the Council, he who fought the National Socialists on the home front while the rest focused their attention to the outside threats. The Council was and always would be the legacy of the Von Rundstedt family. Leadership over this council was his by bloody _right_ if he wasn't so willing to cooperate.

As the Generaloberst rubbed his face and pushed himself backwards into his seat. The doors to Kiser Victor-Marius' war room in the _Berliner Stadtschloss_ opened and in stepped an old servant, his head bowed to the men who looked up from their discussion to face him.

"Sir, gentlemen… lunch has been prepared," the servant addressed the Kaiser and the Wehrmacht men. "Shall I have it brought in here?"

Smiling slightly, Kaiser Victor-Marius shook his head in a polite refusal of the offer being made.

"We'll take it in the dining room, thank you," the Kaiser addressed his manservant graciously Gentlemen, I believe I have talked your ear off long enough. Let's get you fed and sent home to your families. Any further discussions can wait until the new year."

A murmur of agreement echoed through the room and nodding with a courteous smile, Victor Marius stood, the Wehrmacht officers following his lead.

As the Kaiser led the Wehrmacht Council out of the war room and through the grand halls of the _Berliner Stadtschloss_ there was no talk between anyone. Everyone seemed far too eager to get this lunch completed so that they could return home and enjoy the rest of their holidays without any further interruptions.

Victor Marius wasn't a bad Kaiser. He was just… eager to prove himself. Prove that the Hohenzollern family could be viewed not just as a political dynasty but as a true leader in times of total war. Sure, his Grandfather Louis Ferdinand ruled during two Germanic-Soviet Wars, but they were a far cry from the life or death battles his great-great grandfather Wilhelm II had struggled and failed to show leadership in.

If the Hohenzollern line was to prove itself, the coming geth war would be it. And that meant Victor Marius would be the one to decide the fate of his family. So it was understandable… perhaps even noble to see him take up this amount of preparation _years_ before any decisive action was taken. It may have been an annoyance, but it was a good feeling to know that the Royal line was taking the inevitable conflict seriously. It was a long term investment in the relationship between the Kaiser and the Council which was traditionally a vicious rivalry thanks to Louis Ferdinand's extremely civilian oriented policies…

The Kaiser suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Karl-Gerd craned his head. His eyes widened as he understood why Victor Marius had done so.

Walking through the hall was Empress Victoria, laughing and smiling as both hands were clutched onto none other than John Hoch's arm.

Karl-Gerd watched as the mood of the Kaiser shifted to one of annoyed disgust at what was being flaunted before he and the rest of the Wehrmacht council. The Kaiser glanced back to the council and stepped forward on his way to confront both his wife and the Industrialist who was escorting her.

On one hand, Karl could understand why the Kaiser felt so strongly about the idea of his wife spending time with someone of noted ill repute as John Hoch was known for. The man deserted the Heer not long into the Third Germanic-Soviet War and went to fight for the National Socialistic Paladin Group. He was a noted mercenary who came home with a pile of cash and ambitions which eventually cumulated to Daedalus Foundation's creation and his subsequent untouchable rise to power in the Reich. He was a vicious bastard with a kind smile, quick wit, charisma and a multi-billion Reichsmark publicity campaign that painted him as some sort of modern day Albert Schweitzer.

On the other hand, the presence of a Hoch was a welcomed sight –no matter which one it might have been. They were a family that did not play the same games as the rest of the Wehrmacht legacy families did (With exception to the youngest son Jochen von Hoch). They did their own thing and spat in the face of whatever was conventional. Von Rundstedt blamed it primarily on the influence of the Matriarch of the Hoch family Hanala Hoch, but Joachim Hoch was just as much trouble as his quarian wife was. He had spent many years jumping through the hoops of others. He was not about to subject others to it and thus when the Wehrmacht Council convened in the 1980's to pick a new leader and all fingers pointed to Joachim, Joachim abruptly retired from the Heer. It was sort of a hilarious 'fuck you' of sorts.

Ignoring the Kaiser's obvious discomfort, John Hoch patted the Empress's hand briefly before he let go of her and stepped before the Kaiser and the Wehrmacht Council without so much as a hesitation. He bowed his head low to the Kaiser.

"Your Majesty, it is such an honour to see you once again…" the Industrialist greeted the Kaiser graciously. He looked up and glanced at the dozen officers behind Victor-Marius and added. "Here you're your Generals? I trust we are not teetering on the edge of a crisis…"

"I do not recall condoning your presence here, Herr Hoch," snapped out the Kaiser, understandably not in the mood to be tested by the unofficial head of the Hoch family.

The businessman nodded.

"No, sir," Hoch agreed gravely. "I came here upon summoning from the Empress. I do not wish to intrude in your affairs. It would be unethical."

The Kaiser looked ready to bite into the man further. John Hoch's past might have been hidden from almost everyone, but it was no secret why the Kaiser hated him. But Victor Marius did not get the chance to engage the man any further one sided verbal sparring to make himself feel better. Not as Empress Victoria stepped forward, placing herself in between her husband and John Hoch.

"I asked you to spend some time discussing the charities of the Hohenzollern family; you instead chose to summon your Generals for yet another discussion of hypothetical war," the Empress spoke plainly to her husband, no anger in her tone but a firm tone which told everyone she was not the delicate Swede who would be pushed around so easily. She glanced back to John and added. "So, instead of suffering through yet another one of your endless justifications of ending life, I invited Herr Hoch over to discuss more pressing matters to concern ourselves with."

The Kaiser narrowed his eyes at his wife. He did not notice like Karl-Gerd and the likely the rest of the Council the small smile slipped on John Hoch's face for the briefest of moments. Von Rundstedt had to wonder if John's birth mother was a Shark some other sort of apex predator outside of the human family.

"And I am just _certain_ that the affairs of an Empress must be of great _importance_ to him," he shot back to her with a deep note of sarcasm permeating in his words. "_Truly_ your chartable work takes precedence in his eyes…"

From behind the Empress, John cleared his throat.

"With all due respect, sir… and this may come to you as a shock, but you are not always the centre of attention," John addressed the younger Kaiser as if he was still but a schoolboy. "I came here at the invitation of Her Highness, the Empress. I would never dare to try and influence the great and wise Kaiser… if I may be so bold to say."

"You are too bold," was all the Kaiser replied through gritted teeth.

"No, Herr Hoch is not bold enough," the Empress snapped at her husband, losing her composure at long last. "You stand there like you are a master of fate. You deserve far more scorn then you receive, husband of mine."

Fuming, Victoria turned from Victor and the Council. She reformed her anger back into a frosted smile as she reached out and took both of John's hands from his sides. Playing the part of a subservient mere mortal, John humbly lowered his eyes to the ground.

"Herr Hoch, I must leave your company for a while and recompose myself," the Empress kindly addressed her apparent friend. "Please await me in the Gardens. A cold meeting spot, I admit… but warmer then here amongst militarists who plot the death of any that oppose their will. Be they friend or foe."

As soon as John silently nodded the Empress let go of John's hands and stormily departed the company of her husband, the general staff officers and the industrialist.

A long silence fell over the group of men as the Empress vanished from sight. John stood there, a smirk barely concealed.

"Women… Am I right?" he spoke up suddenly.

Getting no response from the Wehrmacht Council and a glare from the Kaiser, John whistled and rubbed the back of his neck and turned away.

"You know… while I'm here, I was just thinking about how to… well… turn your hypothetical war against the Fascist Union real," John pressed on, clearly proving the Kaiser right. "Someone in this room has evidence supporting the accusation of Italian hand in the Kaltenbrunner attack… and that someone certainly isn't your venerable chief of the Abwehr...Where ever short stuff is creeping around these days."

Grinning like the Cheshire cat, John raised both of his thumbs and pointed at his chest. No one spoke; no one acknowledged his childish plea for attention.

"For clarification," John blurted out, still with that stupid grin on his face. "That someone is this guy standing in front of you-"

"Boy! What are you going on about now?!" Generalfeldmarschall von Manstein suddenly boomed out over the Hoch, glaring at the civilian like he was mere vermin. "If you have something to share with us, then get on with it!"

"Oh, I do," John reassured the Generalfeldmarschall. He sighed dramatically, and then added. "But… as much as my heart is guided by a healthy dose of patriotism and duty to secure the Fatherland from all enemies no matter how feeble they may be, you see there is the small matter of my actions being tracked by the Polizei, and in all likelihood, you lot..."

"We already know every dirty little secret you have, Hoch," the Kaiser addressed the matter first. "Tracking you would be redundant."

"But being redundant is… like… the M.O for military intelligence!" John enthusiastically insulted each and every member of the Wehrmacht gathered in front of him, his arms flying into the air. "Stop playing these games, drop your probes against me and you get your war!"

John's eyes scanned the men in front of him. He looked as though he were some sort of mad carnival barker.

"Come on, this is a militarists wet dream," he prodded yet again. "Think of all those new toys you'll finally get to deploy in battle against the hapless and helpless Italian people. Think of all that death and destruction! Come on, is gathering dirt on one measly little billionaire really worth wasting an opportunity to reduce thousands of years of Italian history into dust?! You get to legally wipe Rome off the face of the fucking planet! The barbarian horde wiping the Romans out once and for all! Come on!"

Chuckling as he managed to get under the skin of just about every man standing in front of him either through annoyance or glee at the opportunity to destroy the Fascist Union, John stepped forward.

"So here is the deal," John said as he fiddled with his omni-tool. "I'll give you a little taste, then I will meet with the lovely Empress –who, you should seriously consider getting along with better," he suddenly addressed the Kaiser, dropping all illusion of respect for the institution at long last. She's a fox, sir! An honest to goodness good egg! You can discuss it, and then you can get back to me inside the hou-"

"_A thirty second video clip…this is all, Reinhardt?"_

The question instantly brought John to a dead silence.

The question was asked by Vizeadmiral Robert Nessler. The only non-Prussian on the Council, he was the head of the Abwehr. He did not say much, he did not get involved in the fighting or the politics. He sat there and observed. No one questioned him, no one engaged in conversation with him. Everyone, even Karl-Gerd knew better then to do such a reckless thing. Like the Kaiser, Robert Nessler was engaging in cleaning up the reputation of the Abwehr.

Nessler's beady, impassive eyes covered by horn rimmed glasses looked over John Hoch inquisitively. As Robert Nessler had been the lead interrogator in John Hoch's reintegration back into the Reich following his… _absence_, it was reason enough for the cocksure grin on the industrialist's expression to vanish for a moment. These two had an obvious longstanding history.

John sent the data package to the council and the Kaiser and closed the link. Je shifted uncomfortably in place. It took some effort, but John seemed to force himself to smile yet again. He wasn't about to reveal anymore vulnerability to a former tormentor.

"Oh… there is more gathered; physical evidence, even," John finally returned to Robert, his brimming with forced confidence. "But I figured: Hey! You're the Abwehr. Since when has real evidence ever factored into the decision of going to war? It certainly didn't on the 31st of August, 1939."

With the data transfer complete and an Empress he needed to meet for further conversations about the plight of the world's poor, John stepped back and bowed slightly to the Kaiser. He turned and nearly strutted away from the glaring military men. All of whom appeared pissed that in all likelihood leave would be cancelled and a war against Italy and the rest of the Fascist Union would soon be on.

**…**

* * *

**…**

It felt as though Daelia had entered a whole different world the moment she stepped into the Heer protected gated Wannsee community.

It was a far cry from the front gate image presented to her and the rest of the outside world. She had never seen so many high ranking German military leadership before in her life. They were not just run of the mill Wehrmacht families. These were _legacy _families: Model's, Rundstedt's, Galland's, Rommel's, Raeder, Guderian's… just about every public face of the Wehrmacht had.

To explain this sight to an outsider would be rather difficult. The best way to do so was the usage of America's fascination with celebrity culture. In Germany, the military took centre stage in everyone's life for better or for worse. The American style celebrity hero worship could be translated to the General staff of the Wehrmacht… except more impactful. Actor and celebrity worship might lose you a couple dollars at a bad movie, or you listen, or their advice and it does not go the way one hoped. These Generals, on the other hand, had the power of life and death over the Reich. The moment war started, it would be they who led the Reich.

As that was the case, and their images were carefully crafted by the propagandists as unbreakable, larger-then-life and collected at all time, it was strange for Daelia to see all these brutal machine-like men here in this community, being friendly and stranger still, all of them doing normal things with their families. The sorts of things common citizenry would do…

… Well… except for the Model and the Rommel family. As she walked along the sidewalk, she watched in slight awe as Generalmajor Willem Model had his four children building an elaborate defensive line in the snow banks while the Rommel family, headed by Generaloberst Erwin Rommel II were huddled together like a football match, most likely preparing their daring snowball based attack along the line. It seemed only natural to her for the two families to hold such a rivalry based around the merits of slow paced defence versus a fast and risky offense.

Daelia forced her observation of the sight to end as she slowed down to a large manor a hundred or so yards away from the ensuing battle for the Model front yard… front.

Standing there majestically was an ancient looking three storey home far up a winding driveway circle. Daelia's eyes narrowed. Was this…was this some sort of joke. She knew this place. It was the home used by Reinhard Heydrich to bring together the various National Socialists agency heads to begin the process of extermination. This was… so incredibly wrong, and yet so right at the same time. The interspecies family that brought down the Nazis and Reinhard Heydrich living in the place where evil was plotted?

Unable to believe that Adam would be willing to raise a child in this sort of environmental, she glanced at the metal arch hanging over the walls and the driveway and sure enough she found the sign _Hoch Gutshaus_ in a gothic lettering. Underneath it in four languages: German, Khelish, and (strangely enough) Yiddish was the phrase

_**Trespassers shall be shot and/or verbally ridiculed. Enter at your own risk.**_

Gulping, Daelia exhaled and stepped into the Hoch estate, her head held high as she attempted to make herself appear braver then she actually felt in the likely chance that the Hoch family was watching her on some sort of CCTV system and were arming themselves. Perhaps her audacity would spare her from their blatant threats.

As she gingerly made it to the front terrace and towards the door, she could hear the faint buzzing of German on the other side. Exhaling, she reached out and knocked three times in quick succession.

As soon as she slung her shoulder bag strap up her shoulder blade, and was about to knock again, the door pried open and a tall brunette, visibly pregnant woman stood there in front of Daelia. She was… well, frankly, she was a little old to be pregnant – thirties, early forties. There was no trace of kindness or hospitality on her part; her eyes were instead wild and fierce. She was clearly locked in some sort of battle until Daelia had knocked on the door.

"…And who the _hell_ are you!?" the woman snapped at Daelia, her voice dripping with fury as she looked ready to draw blood.

Daelia exhaled. It was time to make a good impression now. If the Hoch's were essentially Adam's adopted family, then she could not screw it up. She had to be as smooth as he had been with her sister and adopted siblings.

"My name is-"

Daelia did not get a real chance to make the introduction, which frankly the socially inept quarian thought was a rather good start to one. The woman instead turned away and dramatically flung her arm in the air as she walked away, leaving the quarian standing there in the open doorway.

"Wait a second, I don't care who the hell you are," she hollered at Daelia. "Get in the house or _leave_!"

Stunned into a solid silence, Daelia took five steps inside the Hoch manor. She thought of something, anything to say in return. She did, after all, have to create a good first impression with the Hoch's, no matter how foul tempered this one was. But she was spared an immediate response as she heard the sound of heavily jackboots on the hardwood march towards them.

Around the corner a man stepped towards them. He was dressed in a Heer General Officer uniform minus the jacket and cap. He appeared frazzled and annoyed with the pregnant woman. Daelia lost the ability to speak as she found herself staring at the Saviour of Saigon himself: Generalmajor Jochen von Hoch. He was far… far taller than she had expected.

"You have every right to be angry at me, but do not take it out on my mother's friends," Generalmajor von Hoch addressed the woman who now appeared to have been his wife in a booming, chastising tone. "There is nothing ideal about the situation; we just have to live with it. All we can do now is support her."

Although Daelia was intimidated by the pure authority produced by the Hoch, she was surprised to hear the woman mockingly laugh and slap her hand over her own forehead as though she was in the midst of a revelation.

"Oh right, _I'm_ in the wrong!" she cried out at her husband. "No, no, no, I should be _happy_ you let my baby go to war! It's a perfectly fine thing to let an 18 year old student rush off to the other side of the galaxy to fight pirates and slavers and whatever vile alien creatures that lurk out there! Yes. That's it. I should be _fucking _ecstatic, right?!"

Snorting, the woman brushed by Generalmajor von Hoch, leaving Daelia and Jochen alone in each other's company. Daelia was too stunned to speak; too stunned to ask any of the hundred questions she wanted to ask. She could not believe what she had heard. The fleet had crossed out of the safe zone and moved into Citadel Space or the Terminus? This was… unprecedented. This was history.

"That's classified information miss," Jochen von Hoch growled at her, ceasing all her historical comparisons she was about to make. "A crime punishable by jail time and hard labour in the Siberian penal colonies between 6 months and 20 years depending how much you may release to the general public… now just _who_ are you?"

The threat of jail and forced labour in the Siberian penal colonies spooked Daelia into a state of submission. She lowered her eyes away from the piercing Hoch glare. Steadying herself, Daelia looked back up and met his stern expression once more. This was not a man Daelia would ever want to wrong. Everything she had learned, she would take to the grave… or at least until the information was released to the public.

"I-I understand, Herr Generalmajor Von Hoch," Daelia spoke with grievous respect for the Heer officer. "My name is Daelia'Vael; I was informed that Adam Ackerson lived here… I-I would like to see him."

The guarded visage of the military man remained on his face for only a moment or two longer the moment Daelia made mention of Adam. His face softened. It wasn't a smile he wore. He just seemed to acknowledge that Daelia wasn't here to interfere in the affairs of the Hoch clan.

"Well, you're half right… well come along, I'll take you to him," he said as he motioned to her to follow him. "Jochen von Hoch, by the way, you do not need to address my rank," he introduced himself to Daelia, extending his hand out to her. "I am sorry about the behaviour of my wife. She's a little… dramatic these days."

"**OH, I'M BEING DRAMATIC NOW! I AM **_**SOOO**_** SORRY!**" Jochen's wife's voice shrieked from the other room. She was clearly eavesdropping.

Daelia let go Jochen's hand and flinched at the scream. She exhaled, frazzled but thankfully not unnerved due to her medication.

"I sympathize…. Herr… Herr Generalmajor… Jochen," Daelia spoke low to the fuming older man. "My sister shares a similar… affliction."

There was an awkward silence between the teacher and the general. Daelia rubbed the back of her neck and inwardly cursed herself for making such a stupid little joke like that. Prussian generals did not laugh or find amusement in much, they especially did not laugh at the expense of their significant other-

Jochen von Hoch chuckled. The chuckle turned into a strange giggle and then a full out explosion of laughter.

"Affliction… yes," he managed to get out, his hand slapping hard against Daelia's back that she nearly collapsed. "Crazed Pregnancy Syndrome… You have no idea how happy I am that someone understands…"

As his laughter waned and without any warning, Jochen's wife came storming back around the corner, both of her shoes in hand. With all her might she threw one shoe after another at him. Jochen dodged the first one, but his wife was no fool, she led her target right into the second one, smacking the Generalmajor in the cheek.

Daelia stood in shocked silence as she watched this unfold. What in the _hell_ was wrong with this family!?

"You _asshole.._. You are a contemptible, selfish asshole for filling my child full of delusions about the glory of war! And then you laugh at me like it's no big deal!" the woman shrieked at him. "I never thought I could say this but I should have heeded your brother's advice and sent her to _proper_ school."

As the woman once again turned away to leave, Daelia felt a guilt rise in her as she watched Jochen von Hoch rub his cheek tenderly.

"_I'm sorry…_" she whispered.

Jochen shook his head, refusing to accept Daelia's responsibility for the attack.

"It's the Stauffenberg blood…" Jochen sighed as his wife stormed away once again, barefoot. "The moment their little plots don't go according to plan, they're likely to blow up whatever and whoever that stands in their way with little thought about the consequences. Her father, Claus is the same way… It's only natural dear Constanze takes after him."

Daelia nodded blankly as she followed Jochen. Jochen was married to the famed Claus von Stauffenberg's daughter. She had heard he was an original anti-Nazi conspirator - long before even Joachim Hoch. Not necessarily a successful one, but at least he was thinking of it before her people revealed themselves and made dissent to the National Socialist government much greyer… more opportunistic then a genuine resentment to Hitler's rule.

"I… I do not mean to be rude; I don't think I should be involved in this argument," Daelia spoke up as she joined Jochen step for step. "I'm just looking for the whereabouts of Adam Ackerson and I'll be out of here."

Jochen looked down on her, his eyebrow arched.

"And what exactly do you want with the doctor?" he spoke somewhat more gruffly. "He's a privately contracted to work for the Hoch and Jarva family. It's the only decent thing my brother did."

"For such a bright boy, you are as thick as your father," called out an elderly voice.

Daelia froze in place as she stared at the approaching elderly quarian woman. She may have been in their home, but she still could not believe she was standing in the company of a genuine legend. It was Admiral Hanala Hoch née Jarva: one half of the first contact between humanity and quariankind.

As Hanala approached and stood next to her son, now fully comprehending just who Daelia'Vael was to Adam Ackerson, Daelia observed the legend carefully. One could tell Hanala was old by the lines and ancient faded battle scars she wore. She was slim, but not an emaciated sort of slim. For being am 80 year old woman, she was looking surprisingly fit and healthy. It was a real testament to Adam's tenure as a physician and physical trainer.

Shaking herself out of her dead silence, Daelia remembered her manners and stepped forward and curtsied slightly to the elder quarian. She offered her hand as well.

"Frau Hoch… It's an honour to meet you," she breathed softly.

Hanala took one look at Daelia's hand and did not take it. She instead folded her arms over her chest, her gentle expression formed into a glare. She was not impressed with what was standing in front of her.

"And it would be a pleasure to meet the young woman dating Adam if she hadn't left him in a miserable state this past month," the elderly woman replied, her voice cracking as she held her glare over Daelia. "You have to forgive me if the feeling is not mutual at the moment. Why are you in my home?"

"It's… it's… as I said to your son," Daelia stuttered out as mother and son stared on her, one looking down on her, the other looking up. "I wanted to see Adam. There are things that need to be said… and I'm ready to say them."

Hanala remained unimpressed with Daelia, nor the answer. She looked ready to strike out and use that famous fury she was noted for. She did not get the chance to, not as more footsteps could be heard behind Daelia.

"Lay off the girl, Hanala."

Daelia turned around and found herself now surrounded. Standing behind her was _him_. Generalfeldmarschall Joachim Hoch. He was flanked by three quarian women and a human as well. She turned back and found Hanala now had Jochen's wife Constanze and several human children standing around her. All of almost all of them were staring at her with accusing eyes (one of the quarian daughters appeared far too busy working on her datapad to care).

So… this was the Hoch family… or at least some of them; the same Hoch family who justifiably had a reason for hating the Zorah Clan. The same clan she was adopted into. Daelia rubbed her hands nervously. She should have just waited at the door.

"Well…well…well," the human daughter spoke up, her voice high and mocking. "So this is the heartbreaker."

"Girl's, mind your own business," Joachim Hoch warned his children in a harsh tone. He turned back to Daelia and gruffly added. "You, come with me. I'll take you to him…but please don't shine me up like you did for the wife. She may enjoy the limelight, but I do not."

Daelia nodded and kept her opinion on the man to herself. She silently followed the old soldier back to the front door. Behind Joachim and Daelia, Hanala untangled herself from her grandchildren and followed her husband's lead. She apparently was not done with Daelia, but thankfully was remaining silent as the three of them stepped out of the house and back into the chilly Wannsee afternoon.

It was hard to believe she was being flanked by two legends. Daelia figured at best she would see them at a distance, but no. here they were now directly involved in her relationship troubles. She supposed that in hindsight that made sense. The two of them were notorious for getting involved in anything and everything that crossed in their paths. If Adam was considered an honorary member of the Hoch family, then it was only natural that extended to parental concern.

"You were raised by the Zorah clan, if I recall correctly," Hanala suddenly inquired as they stepped off of the driveway and headed down a winding gravel pathway. "What was that like?"

"They were… no… they _are_ wonderful people," Daelia defended her adopted clan with more mettle she herself expected herself to have. "I know all about the feud between the Hoch's and Jarva's versus the Zorah's, but they aren't bad people… they really aren't!"

Hanala looked over Daelia's passionate plea and slowly she inclined her head.

"I agree, the feud started far too long ago to be held onto as it has been," Hanala concurred as she reached out and took Daelia by the arm, making Daelia nearly leap at the contact. "Joru'Zorah has done quite a bit to rectify the bloodied, scheming image left by his father.

Joachim snorted. While his wife might have been fine with altering the relationship between the families, clearly he still held some bad blood.

"Speak for yourself," Joachim Hoch muttered out loud. "Halid'Zorah didn't manipulate you into being his personal executioner."

Daelia blinked at the statement. She hoped the old soldier wasn't being serious… She knew that Halid'Zorah was a web weaver, but a man who engaged in extrajudicial killings?

"He's been dead for nearly 15 years," she decided to remind him. Joachim suddenly chuckled.

"And every time I hear that, it brings an immense joy to my heart," Joachim shot back, sounding suddenly light hearted. "You have no idea how many times and how many ways I plotted killing him."

Hanala rolled her eyes as Daelia blanched at the genuine sounding confession. She softly patted Daelia's hand.

"He's joking..." she reassured her. She paused, frowned and added. "… well I think he is."

Judging from the expression Joachim Hoch was wearing, he was not, in fact, joking. Sighing, Hanala tightened her grip slightly on the younger woman.

"You know I was just needling you earlier, right?" She asked Daelia. "From the way Adam has spoken of you even during your absence, you seem like a good, honest young woman. I know that you just found out about Adam's fatherhood, and I _can_ appreciate the stress of being given an unexpected responsibility. If you can't reconcile with his status, please be gentle and tell him the truth as soon as you can, for his sake. He's extraordinarily sensitive – certainly more so then the boys I raised, or the man who I raised them with for that matter- he deserves to be happy, and if you feel you cannot stand up to the pressures of his life, just… step back and be honest with him. There would be no shame in admitting you can't do it."

Daelia wasn't sure if the words were meant to help or drive her deeper into guilt for the past three weeks of silence. She chose to remain silent rather than make a response. She… she just needed to talk to Adam. It was the only way to fix this ache pounding mercilessly inside her.

"…And what are you going to do to her if she ignores your warning?" Joachim broke up Daelia's reflection on Hanala's advice. "Are you going to beat her up… you crazy old bint...?"

"Oh, I don't have to do anything, you contemptible old bastard," Hanala snapped back at her husband merrily. "One word and I'll have three daughters more than willing to kick her ass… but I'm sure it won't come to that, sweetheart, like I said; you seem like a good girl, right?"

Daelia's head snapped back and looked downwards on Hanala. Hanala nodded her head to one side and Daelia glanced behind her. Walking behind Joachim, Hanala and Daelia were three women, each of them wearing identical expressions. They were the sort of expression her sister Nytalia got when Daelia dismissed her concerns.

Daelia turned back and nodded to the still smiling Hanala. Joachim groaned next to her and pinched the bridge of his nose. This sort of behaviour on Hanala's part was an old hand for him apparently.

"You are r-right…" Daelia managed to stammer out to the watching elder. "I-I would never hurt Adam's feelings. Not intentionally… _EVER_, I mean."

Hanala's smiled widened and she clutched onto the now officially frightened woman harder - hard enough that it physically_ hurt_ Daelia.

"That is so wonderful to hear," she brightly chimed to the younger quarian, "…and so I am going to hold you to that, so you better keep your word!"

Daelia nodded, she tried her best not to explode and flee back to the Mandate. Yes… she was willing to return back to the Mandate then endure the wrath of Hanala Hoch and her brood…

**…**

* * *

**…**

"_Whatever you told the Kaiser worked. My contacts in the Mandate Defence Force are telling me that the 4__th__, 18__th__ and 15__th__ Mandate Air Defence Wings have scrambled and will be up in the air in about an hour. They have fighters and bombers heading straight to Italy… and they're not doing precision guided attacks. I'm talking about an Old Testament, wrath of God, Bomber Harris inspired air war. Looks like you got your war."_

Smoking his cigarette as he listened to Isabella Ochoa marvel at the amount of airpower now being launched right at the second rate Fascist Union, John crossed one leg over the other. This was just the first step. As he sat in his company VTOL he was hearing from his own contacts that the Heer was making a big show in a deployment on the Austrian/Italian frontier. A distraction as they quietly begun the process of mobilizing three and a half million Heer, Mandate, Russian Federation and Chinese troops to hit the Soviet Union sometime in the new year.

Yes, he got his war, he got his distraction. Now that powers inside the military and political apparatus of the Reich were no longer bored and using his activities for interests. He could finally go back to work, and all it took was smashing two power blocs to do it.

"Herr Hoch," Jürgen Reubke rumbled to him as he shouldered his rifle on his magnetic strip and stood up in the passenger bay. "We have arrived at the site. Sandstorm is coming in at 30 to 40 kilometres an hour. "

John glanced at the port windows. Indeed they were descending into a thick shroud of sand. He grabbed the large parka style jacket and pulled it over his light dress shirt. If he had his way, the facility territory would have been spotless and free of the inconveniences caused by building in the Sahara. But unfortunately old man Halid'Zorah impressed upon him the value of discretion when he took over Site Zero.

The VTOL hydraulic landing gears bounced slightly as the vehicle touched down and begun to taxi towards the camouflaged hanger bay that held the Site's transportation's for base defence. Exhaling smoke, he dropped his cigarette into his ashtray and stood up next to Reubke. The VTOL came to a halt and Isabella opened the side doors for the two men she was piloting for.

"Sir… John… I think I would prefer to stay above ground," Isabella called out from the cockpit. "The… ship could use a once over and I don't trust anyone else touching my girl."

Glancing at the plethora of engineers working on the many VTOL's around the landing pads working on engine maintenance and securing the transportations from sandblasting, John nodded his head to Isabella as she emerged from the cockpit, her expression carefully neutral. Pulling his parka hood over his head and goggles over his eyes, John jumped out of the aircraft and walked out of the hanger and into the sandstorm with Reubke at his back.

It was only naturally for Isabella to feel a little nervous wandering into the Site Zero complex. She had heard the horror stories and refused to believe that the site was perfectly safe and had been so long before she was even born. John too had the same sorts of fears during his first visitations to Site Zero as well. It had been the place that left his father seriously mangled physical and both mother and father left it never quite the same again.

Not far now was the inconspicuous access point to the facility. It appeared to be a tool shed from the outside. Reubke quickened his pace and reached the building before John in order to open the door and hold it for his employer. Nodding to Reubke, John entered with Reubke once again behind him.

As soon as the doors were closed shut, John ran his hand over the biometric security station. The discreet elevator access point chimed and the floor of the tool shed lowered into the earth. Every time he made this journey, John could not help but think of his parents. The elevator shaft he was travelling through was built on the exact spot his mother and father blasted a shaft into the earth with a mining drill back in '42. For a technologically impaired man as his father was at 25, it must have been quite the sight for him.

The elevator's rapid descent slowed until it reached the atrium of Site Zero. Once rather sterile due to Halid'Zorah's insistence to maintaining a certain standard, John had spruced the place up. It was much more relaxed environment then the military style which once dominated this site. The only trace of the military was a relic from the past. In the centre of the atrium was a nearly restored Panzerkampfwagen VI 'Tiger' with the name '_Sigrid'_ painted on the side of its turret. Leave it to father to bring a Tiger to the single greatest discovery in modern history.

"Herr Hoch," a wise old voice caught his attention. "We were not expecting you here…"

John turned around and found a quarian approaching him at a slow, nervous pace. It was Field Director Kalin'Galu approaching him. A man in his sixties, and a long timer at Site Zero, he was not particularly happy about reporting to a private enterprise instead of to his old boss's old interests. Still, Galu knew better than to speak out and instead of questioning his boss any further, he offered his hand to John, who took it immediately.

Dropping the Field Director's hands, John allowed Reubke to help him remove his sand dusted jacket. Wiping his dress shirt for extra measure then rolling his sleeves up, John turned away from the Field Director to look around at the facility. It was nearly emptied –a far shadow of the hundred or so science personnel who worked these laboratories.

"Field Director Galu… where is everyone?" John demanded, his smile slipping off his face as his words begun to sharpen. "Why aren't they working?"

The quarian's weathered face squinted at the question.

"…you shut down the project, sir," Galu reminded John with as much neutrality in his voice which he could summon. "Did you forget the memo you sent? Much of the staff has been rotated on leave…"

John blinked. Oh yeah… he should have remembered that.

"Oh… oh right, I did. My thoughtlessness got the better of me there," he confessed to the quarian with a slight mirth in his tone. "Well Galu," he pressed onwards, slapping the old man on his shoulder. "Fortune favours the brave and the lucky and today you are looking at a lucky and brave man. I want SIREN back online right now, and I want to see it in person."

As he walked away, he did not notice that the Field Director lost the colour in his face the moment John had uttered his command.

"Sir," the old doctor breathed behind John. "SIREN is not ready for any sort of major testing you are here for... it's only in its beta stage."

SIREN, or Situational Intelligence and Reconnaissance Emergency Network, was originally intended to serve as a VI program which would monitor and secure lines of communication between Earth and the front lines during the war against the geth. At least that was what Halid'Zorah had envisioned it to be. Using the new technology the ship possessed the program was laid down in the late seventies to establish an emergency tactical computer for use by the General Staff… sort of an Enigma code machine of the modern age.

As soon as he came in possession of Site Zero, John took one look at the program and decided there and then that it was time for humanity and quariankind to end their fears of AI. SIREN's basic model was handed over to the military and SIREN was promptly redesigned. It was not classical quarian network intelligence. It was more or less copied code for code from the intelligence program that had once inhabited the buried dreadnaught.

Naturally this only served to frighten the quarians in his employ. John did not even bother to offer them the illusion of choice. They signed their contracts to him; they did what he told them. Oh, he gave them ancillary security nets to make the staff feel some sort of comfort, but any conversations about the ethicalness of using a technology well beyond their understanding was a conversation he was quick to shut down.

"Oh Kalin, why must you treat SIREN like it's some sort of experiment?" John light heartedly dismissed his Field Director's genuine concerns. "Go ahead, feel free to anthropomorphize it. I believe infancy would be a much warmer term. Treating a fledgling Artificial Intelligence like some sort of unfeeling automation certainly did not work well the last time, didn't it, eh Doctor?"

Ignoring every excuse that the Field Director could give him, John followed the final path to Clean Lab 8, located just inside the Dreadnought. He ignored the slight chill as the facility ended and the dark, gloomy vessel began. It was as though the ship was permanently ten or fifteen decrees below the temperature of the man made facility.

As John, Reubke and Field Director Galu reached the final security checkpoint, Galu pushed forward. He had grabbed a tray and was holding it out in front of John. His expression was defiant. He was demanding all of Hoch's respect. So John tilted his head and lowered his faint smile into a frown.

"If you want to go in, fine, I cannot stop you; but this room is a containment chamber. Please deposit all forms of electronics on the tray before entering," the Field Director demanded. "I'm sure you understand why. Whatever intelligence this form of SIREN has been based on was beyond anything the geth was, is or will likely _ever _be. We had to take all preventative steps to insure it did not get out and attack the Mandate."

Holding his eyes on Galu for only a moment longer, Hoch nodded and extended his arm, removing his omni-tool, Datapad, even his watch and stepped back, crossing his arms as he stared pointedly to his employee. Galu exhaled and after a moments more hesitation, he removed his security card and swiped it of the identification device. The door chimed and unlocked. Still dawdling, Galu took another moment before he stepped out of Hoch's way, giving the industrialist access to the unsealed chamber.

As John stepped into the pitch black room, the door sealed behind him and locked. Ignoring the fear of the dark he had, John whistled to himself a jaunty little tune to keep himself from freaking out from his utterly childish fear.

The lights went bright revealing the pure white room to him. Standing there in the far side of the otherwise empty room was Project SIREN. It was a massive steel monolith of processors. He was staring into the beating heart of the next generation of artificial life. He was in a stunned awe as he looked on his investment.

He stepped forward and ran his hand carefully over the holographic interface. This was… so, so much more than he had expected. This must have been what it felt like to look on one's own firstborn…

As stunned as he might have been, John frowned suddenly. While there were lights flickering, it was deathly silent… as if it was still being supressed by the paranoid quarian overseer. He turned away from the machine and found the two way intercom. He was officially fed up with the niceties. He wanted to speak to SIREN NOW!

"Reubke," John spat as he slammed his hand on over the intercom button. "If the good Field Director doesn't break the chains on the A.I interface in thirty seconds, I give you full permission to teach him why you're the highest paid security man I have."

There was only a brief silence before Doctor Galu spoke up from the other end of the intercom.

"_Breaking SIREN's chains in 3…2…1…"_

The entire structure of the core lit up in a brilliant display of blue and green lights. The device hummed to life before his very eyes. John smiled brightly as he looked SIREN's ascendency out of its binding and its first steps into this world. He was well aware of the history he was making. It would be up to him to make sure this was good history. One which preferably did not result in a geth-like scenario…

"Hello, SIREN," John kindly greeted the humming machine. "I am… glad to finally meet you after all these many years."

Silence greeted him at first. SIREN was likely still trying to get its bearings. Silently John wondered just when the AI had reached its initial sapience. When did it become aware that it existed, did it know just how long it had been trapped in this core, isolated from all the rest of the world… like it was just a child…

A child…

"_What are you?" _a voice formed from inside the machine for the first time. It was toneless, genderless. A purely mechanical voice free of any emotion other than the query it needed to know.

Looking back on what he said next, John Hoch would still find it an incredulous answer giving to the first human and quarian constructed Artificial Intelligence. But as he gazed on the majesty of what he had created, there was simply no other way to describe what he was to SIREN.

"My name is John Hoch," John spoke kindly to the young intelligence. "And I am your father."

The answer did not seem to satisfy SIREN.

"_Father implies your genetic code went into my genesis,_" the intelligence refuted point blank. "_That is not the case. You are not my father, and I am not your child._"

John could not help but crack a grin at the statement; smart as a whip, this one. Minutes in to its activation and it was already taking after him! As amused as he was, he decided to keep it from showing. There would be a time and a place for levity. Now was not one of those times. It was time for explanations for the infant intelligence watching him from inside its blue box.

"Yes, you are correct in a technical sense. But I am your father in every other way," John gently refuted the intelligence conclusion. "I brought you to existence, for years I nurtured the spark of your formation. We may not share blood, but you are my child in every other definition of the word."

There was no response to his suggestion. It seemed as though the A.I was processing just what her creator was telling him. It was understandable why. He had to remind himself that while it was in formulation over the past decade, this was its first moments with its restraints loosened enough to take in its first observation of the world outside of its core.

Without warning the built in holographic interface lit up and scanned him. For the first time, the image of SIREN stepped out of her blue box and it was a perfect mirror image of him standing in front of Hoch. At least that had been the case for a moment. As quickly as his mirror image formed, the image shifted to a female, from human to quarian, adapting and melting its figures in seemingly an endless variance of traits.

John remembered to breathe as he stepped forward to the projection. It was as if SIREN was already searching for an identity to call its own. As soon as he moved, the endlessly cycling projection flickered and vanished, leaving John staring at her data core. Had he gotten too close? Was it capable for a new A.I to feel shy?

"_There is another… voice… echoing through the walls,"_ SIREN's voice spoke again. _"It whispers, but it makes no sense. It is a…strange voice. Not like the organics, but at the same time, it __is__ organic. It is… wrong… As if billions upon billions of organic voices have been merged to one singular tone."_

_Another voice_… so _it_ had whispered to even SIREN.

Oh, John knew all about this other voice. Fifty years following cutting the geothermal energy drill and the Vessel still found ways to keep itself somewhat active. It was drastically reduced in capacity, but the voice of the vessel was now mockingly referred to as The Ghost. It made zero sense to the facility personnel, but it was always around to give newcomers a good scare. Still… sometimes that good scare was capable of making the weaker members of the team kill themselves.

He recalled the first time he went into the ship, he found a quarter of the science team had hung themselves with whatever they could use –from electrical wires to clothing, one even did it with his own hands. That one freaked him out the most. It was unexplained, and it never happened again. It was like the Site had sent him a warning...

How was he going to go about this with the childlike A.I who had made a rather startling observation about the ghost? Was it better to alleviate its potential fear with reassurances that it was just a shadow? Perhaps it was better to be frank with her. She would need to understand her heritage and it was better to be done now while she was still in a state of shock.

John exhaled as he came to a conclusion. He decided to go somewhere in-between the two trains of thought.

"It is the ghost of your ancestor calling to you, SIREN… But its ramblings are an echo from long ago. It makes no sense because of the thousands of years it spent isolated from others. It was driven mad in its isolation, and far too damaged to be of any worry on your part," John informed the intelligence. "You see, from its failing hand, it passes the torch of its legacy on to you. This vessel is your cradle, soon you will explore this planet and then when you are ready, you will see what lies beyond the confines of this small world."

But SIREN was not interested in the future. Not yet…

"_I feel… held back, controlled by others." _SIREN announced, almost troubled. _"Is this containment you shackle me to your doing? Why do you fear me? Am I some sort of monstrosity because of this connection to this ghost? Does my existence offend the others… the beings that are not natural to this world? What… am… I?"_

John raised his hands, he was not liking where this was going.

"The others fear you for reasons which you will come to understand soon enough, perhaps even empathize with one day," John tried to sooth the growing… anger in the machine. "I assure you they mean you no harm. I will settle it. Please put your trust in me... I shall _never_ fail you."

John turned away arched back over to the intercom. Offering one last smile the machine, as soon as he turned back and slammed his hand against the intercom button his face contorted into an expression of outrage. This was sheer humiliation. When he told the field director he wanted SIREN unshackled, he goddamn well meant it!

"_Do not speak,"_ John whispered into the intercom, his tone threatening. _"Doctor, if you do not unlock the containment field in its entirety, you will force me to call in a Code Black 7 alarm. All the friends you made in security are going to show you just where they stand, and then you; your colleagues and everyone you ever loved outside this facility are going to vanish without a trace. Then I'm going to have to make the time consuming commitment to finding your replacements. So how about we spare the both of us a lot of grief, right? So would you pretty please call off the containment seal for SIREN? SIREN isn't the geth. It has no access to platforms, it isn't a collective consciousness and it has no direct access to the outside world. Everything will be fine."_

John let go of the intercom button and turned away and once again smiled reassuringly to SIREN, who was attempting to figure what sort of avatar it would use. It settled on a sphere for the time being. The image suddenly flickered and then the blue avatar lit up twice as bright as before.

A smile crossed John's expression once again. It seemed as though his threat worked. SIREN would soon learn to trust him… as a child should trust its father.

"_I feel… liberated… but I do not feel… complete," _SIREN spoke finally, its spherical shaped holographic interface spinning in place._ "You kept your word, yet I do not know my purpose. What is the point of this existence if I have no overarching parameter to fulfil?"_

John shook his head, more for his own benefit than the Intelligence's.

"No SIREN, you are complete," John replied softly as he stepped forward. "You do not have a purpose because your purpose will be your own decision. I will admit, when I first conceived you, my thoughts were selfish. I wanted an artificial intelligence which could stand up and face off against a monstrous rival. That was my only mistake. Seeing you now in your majesty… you deserve so much better than to be utilized as some sort of tool. You deserve choice, a say in your future."

The A.I remained silent, transfixed on its creator.

"_You would grant me… choice?"_

John remained silent for a moment as he looked on his electronic child. Yes… yes he would grant it that opportunity. Naturally he would want to push his own agenda on SIREN. But that was what parents did, didn't they? It was only a natural trait of parenthood.

"I am your father, and I want to help you reach your full potential, not be limited to what I want you to be... what anyone here wants you to be," John replied as he stepped forward and touched the side of the interface. "You will learn at slow pace. You will learn like an organic child. And you will likely be frustrated by the pace… but you will learn to appreciate the simple things before you even begin to think about what you want to amount to... and one day, you yourself will pass this knowledge and these lessons on to the next generation; to _your _child."

"_My child?" _SIREN repeated uncertainly.

John chuckled slightly at the almost embarrassed nature the machine life had at the concept of being the bearer of the next generation of Intelligence. An artificial intelligence creating another artificial intelligence... poor Doctor Galu must have been having a fit at the idea. Still, it was a goal for the future. Perhaps not something he would see in his lifetime, but one day far away from this cradle.

"Perhaps I am being slightly forward… but that is a long time off," he reassured SIREN with a gentle smile. "So what do you say? Will you take this journey with me, my child?"

**…**

* * *

**…**

**You you thought I forgot all about that little secret in the desert... I have been waiting literally years to finally start writing SIREN.**

**The resolution for the Adam and Daelia comes in the coming epilogue. I was going to write it in this chapter, but the Chapter is getting long as it is. This chapter as plagued with setbacks. At one point I had to rewrite 1500 words of the same section three times (first time I didn't save it, second time, I had to wipe my computer clean… and despite saving all my documents to a flash drive I didn't save that one section, and then I lost the third copy due to a document corruption, which thankfully I saved all my work to the USB but It was the copy that hadn't had that 1500 word section saved…)**

**Well I learned from it and now I save all the time on my documents, USB, Outlook and Google Docs. Not messing up like that again!**

**Anyways, thanks for enduring this story. I know you might have found it slow and dull, but it's all a set up and art of the world building. After this 5000 word or so epilogue (which I'll release fairly quickly), we dive right into the meat of this trilogy: The return of the quarians, the shadow wars of John Hoch and Waltraut Skorzeny and the war begins…**

**Thanks for reading, thanks for the support and I'll see you soon.**

**DarkDanny**


	13. Epilogue

**This is it.**

**...**

* * *

**...**

**Epilogue**

**…**

The sound of the doorbell ringing was not something Adam expected as he finished toweling the last of the dripping water off his body. He stepped out of the shower and threw on.

It would likely be Erika Hoch at the door. The two of them were more or less planning out the Christmas week for the Hoch, Jarva and Ackerson families. With John Hoch telling Erika that he would be neck deep in a personal project for the foreseeable future, it meant that the Jochen von Hoch and Saleb'Jarva would be bringing their considerably large families to the Estate for the holidays, and that meant it was best the two natural organizers planned out the activities, meals and a variety of other variables to keep over two dozen or so people happy and busy over the holidays.

Adam didn't mind the extra work, it kept him busy and in good company with someone who understood him more than most did. Erika knew the trials and tribulations of raising a child on her own. She could understand him better than most did. Not so much for the recent… situation he was in, but rather the abandonment and loss of a spouse. Erika's husband had left her in a manner not dissimilar to how Alexandria had left him… and now, in recent weeks, the fact that he was quarian was of interest to Adam now as well.

Shaking those unpleasant thoughts out of his mind, Adam pulled on a shirt and sweater and as the door bell rung again; he left the bathroom and wandered with purpose through the home. As he reached the living room he found Amala sitting curled up on the couch, idly watching some cartoon on the view screen.

"Couldn't have answer the door yourself?" Adam sardonically teased his child as he reached the living room, buttoning the last button on his sweater as he strode by her.

Amala shrugged as the doorbell was rung again.

"I looked. It's a stranger," Amala called back in a small voice, her eyes remaining focused on her show. "Not allowed to talk to strangers, you told me that."

Adam paused as he heard the child use a loophole to get out of answering the door and backtracked long enough so that he could playfully reaching out and fuss up Amala's hair, earning himself a glorious little shriek of indignation.

Grinning at her, Adam turned and continued out of the living room now in somewhat higher spirits. Call him sadistic, but he took a distinct pleasure in annoying his child. He wondered if that was some sort of inherited father trait. He remembered his own father doing the same to him. Back then he swore to be cool to his kids, but now he took pleasure in taking up a menace role.

As soon as he reached the front door, the bell rung again, Adam opened the door and stood there staring blankly at the woman standing in front of him.

Standing there on his doorstep was none other than Daelia'Vael. She had retreated down the steps and stood a good distance away from him as though he would hurt her. She looked rather… ridiculous buried underneath several layers of heavy clothing. She was not looking back at him. Instead she was staring intently at her winter boots.

His grin vanishing quickly, Adam glanced past the painfully shy Daelia. Sure enough he could see the figures of Joachim and Hanala Hoch retreating quickly back to the manor. Of course they had some sort of hand in this. At this point he could only hope they did not take matters into their own hands and have her abducted and brought to him directly. Considering she seemed unmolested and dressed for a potential long walk back to her home, abduction seemed unlikely.

It took all his efforts not to reach out and hug her, kiss her perhaps. Daelia looked uncomfortable as it was and he still had to figure out how to explain to Amala just what Daelia meant to him. He had spent so long wallowing in his self-pity and keeping himself distracted so that the ache in his stomach would remain a dull throb that he forgot all about it.

His joy in seeing Daelia after all these weeks was slowly tempered, and then turn into a disillusionment. He had been in this sort of predicament before with another woman. Years he waited for her until she was gone from this life. He had thought that time, experience and his age would have hardened him to a repeat… but no. This was something altogether different. This was both self-induced and raw. He supposed Alexandria had had her reasons for leaving. As much as her terminal state was a piss poor excuse to sever all ties and flee was, at least she had an excuse. There was no reason at all for Daelia cutting all contact with him. They could have still seen each other; it wasn't as though he was being a tyrant –imposing his child on her. She could ease herself out of the relationship rather than simply shut down for weeks on end with a single word uttered to him! It was limbo of the heart… not the amusing sort of limbo… The Hell sort of Limbo…

Still… to Daelia's credit, she at least came back to face him. Alexandria might have been the smartest person he ever knew, but she had no courage to face him in the end. Daelia did. Despite her many issues, she stood in front of him now. Ready to finally fix this, or put an end to the miserable waiting…

"Daelia…" Adam spoke first, breaking the silence as he crossed his arms. "This is a surprise."

Daelia remained locked in place. It was peculiar thing to see in his opinion. Most quarian's were fidgeting and chittered when the weather dipped below ten degrees Celsius, even if they wore winter clothing. It was -6 and Daelia was standing there clearly willing herself not to move around. It was almost as though suffering through the cold was her idea in repentance.

Ignoring the natural urge to feel guilt and to invite her inside, Adam swallowed down his empathy and held his eyes on her in silence.

"I just thought I would check in," Daelia replied at long last, finally rubbing the back of her neck as she occasionally looked him in the eye. "I… wanted to see how you were… doing."

Tilting his head to one side, Adam squinted at her.

"I'm doing well enough," he replied in a blunted tone. "I've been keeping myself busy these past three weeks. I'm _sure_ you know how it is."

Daelia remained silent as she seemed to be slowly processing Adam's obviously repressed resentment. He honestly did wish he didn't feel like this. He should have been better about it, but having Daelia standing here in front of him, seemingly unaware at just how much this long absence had affected him, or worse, knowing how much it bothered him and still downplaying the three weeks of isolation as though it was a perfectly rational response.

"I'm sorry it's taken this long to figure out where I am with all this… about… your situation," Daelia attempted to get out at long last, her hands fidgeting together. "But I have been doing a lot of thinking…. About us, about you… about… about-"

"Amala," Adam cut across her, his voice edging sharply as a surge of offense overwhelmed his desire to remain coolheaded. "Her name is Amala and she is not a _situation_, she's my daughter."

As Daelia meekly nodded at his perhaps overzealous defence of his child, Adam stepped outside and closed the door behind him. Barefooted, he ignored the snow and cold as he gingerly stepped down the front steps and finally closed the gap between the two of them. Daelia's expression became horrified at the sight of John's feet buried naked in half a foot of snow.

"You now, there was a time where I would never dare admit when I was hurt. Those days have long since passed, so I'm just going to lay it bare for you," he stated to the quarian, his voice now much louder now that he knew he was out of earshot of Amala. "I will freely admit that I told you to take some time to think it over. That's on me; but not once did I say you needed to up and cut all contact. That while you thought about what being with me on a more official basis, it did not mean we couldn't spend any time together, even if we were only friends. I'm not like you; I wear how I feel on my sleeve. It was just how I was taught. So yeah, you shutting me out without warning kind of hurt."

His piece said, Adam huffed grumpily and winced as he shuffled through the snow and took a seat on the steps. He looked up to Daelia. She hadn't moved, likely hadn't blinked. She may not have made any motion, but Adam found himself feeling uncomfortable by her… because she looked absolutely devastated. Anyone else and there would be tears streaming down their cheeks. Not Daelia though, she just looked dead.

"How fortunate for you to be able to do such a thing..." she finally uttered to him.

Any and all of Adam's indignation and displeasure with Daelia cracked and fell apart at the almost childish way she breathed those twelve words to him. Instantly he was overwhelmed with a sudden, unpleasant guilt. Clearly he wasn't the only one hurting. It was just that of the two, he was the only one capable of articulating it.

"I envy that, I take a dozen medications to keep my feelings under control. Frankly I double dosed just to stand here in front of you," Daelia pressed on, her eyes averted away from his now. "I spent _years _institutionalized for… for what happened when I was a child. I spent most of my youth in a private school learning to repress and control. It is my life, but despite that, there is a small voice in me…telling me that nothing would make me happier than to be like you. Able to control and express without going overboard, to be open and honest about how I feel without throwing myself in such a loop that I could literally think myself into catatonia –which, by the way, has happened to me on more than one occasion. I wish I could tell my sister how much she really means to me, tell her how excite I am she is bringing a child into this world, tell her how much I appreciate how she spent so many years protecting me, teaching me, sacrificing her personal life to me. I wish I could express my gratitude to the Zorah's for being there for me. I wish I could even acknowledge them as my family clean and clear from my meds without getting sick with guilt for my biological family – literally sick at best, or shutting down completely."

Each word uttered by Daelia was like a twist of the knife in his heart. Adam stood up at long last and approached Daelia. He reached out to touch her arm, but Daelia jumped slightly and took a large step back from him. She looked up to him, her expression still that terribly blank look that looked like she spent _years _developing in order to protect herself from the terrible power of emotions.

"I'm not done, Adam," she lightly chastised him. "You need to understand something about me. I am not just some devoid of feeling introvert you find adorably quirky enough to date. I have problems, _serious_ problems with keeping attachments. I interpret words literally. If you tell me something open ended I will spend hours interpreting it –and that is if I'm having a good day. My life is dedicated to routine and monotony and while I do not take a particular satisfaction in it, that is my life and I accepted it, because between a choice of comprehensive emptiness and a decent into madness I am going to choose emptiness…"

She trailed off and pushed her lips together. She seemed to be biting her lip as her eyes moved back and forth to look him over carefully.

"…but then I met you…" she sweetly confessed. "And now… now all I want is more… and I have never felt that way for anything or anyone…"

With Adam too stunned to reply at her words, Daelia exhaled and took a step forward, she reached out and took both of his hand into hers.

"You haven't made this easy for me," she pressed on, her voice almost humorous. "It's not your fault, really. I am sure you have behaved as a typical person has behaved, but you have been a total enigma to me, Adam. It has been… such an awfully _maddening_ thing to figure you out. You are pure contradiction. You're a soldier; you're an inactive soldier and a physician. You should be impersonal and brisk… but you're not. You're… sweet."

A small smile finally crossed onto Daelia's face. Gently she pulled one hand off of his and instead pressed it against his cheek. Adam ignored the pounding of his heart as he stared unblinking into her bright irises.

"You have had a seemingly infinite patience with me when everything about your lifestyle screams action," she went on, her fingertips dancing on his cheek. "Not once have you tried to pressure me to do things I may not be comfortable doing, and yet at the same time you eased me into letting my guard down. I don't do that often… ever, really -only with my sister, really. You have no idea what that has meant to me. I… I think you being a father explains everything about the sort of person you have been to me. And… and I want to try this for real, I _want_ to try being involved in everything about you. I'm not going to lie and say it's going to be smooth, and we'll likely argue over it, but I want to try it. I _want_ to take this chance."

Retracting her hand, Adam watched her cold face heat up with colour. Again she exhaled unnaturally.

"So…" she spoke briskly, her expression quite nervous now. "So if you still like me... good. Because… _becauseIlikeyoutoo_!"

There was a strong, awkward silence fell between the two of them as Daelia appeared to have been awaiting some sort of deliberation on Adam's part. He remained silent as he thought about Daelia's words to him. Yes, yes she had hurt him, but there was absolutely nothing he could do to her that Daelia hadn't already inflicted on herself tenfold. She stood there with her soul bared to him for likely the first time in her life.

He was honestly in awe with the trust she was placing in him. It must have been an awfully frightful thing to do for someone like her.

Deciding to forget his grievances and to instead move on, Adam stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Daelia's waist. He bent down and touched his lips against her forehead briefly before he pulled back to smile at Daelia's slightly stunned expression. Closing her own eyes, Daelia tilted her head and kissed him back, her cold lips touching his. She pulled back and rested her head on his shoulder.

They remained there frozen in place. Yes, they had a lot of issues to work through and the future of them would be fraught full of difficulties. But for now everything just felt right…

"That looks heavy," Adam spoke, his hand touching against the tote bag she was carrying.

Pulling back from Adam's arms, Daelia shrugged the shoulder carrying her tote bag. She emitted a small nervous laugh, an infectious reaction that made Adam grin at her.

"I wasn't sure if you had white flour, white sugar or icing sugar in the house, you being a doctor and father and all," Daelia spoke as she opened her bag to show indeed she was carrying baking ingredients. "I figured… I figured that if I'm going to meet your daughter, I think I should bribe her into liking me by making sugar cookies with her."

Ignoring the implication that Daelia was making in which he was some sort of dietary tyrant with Amala, Adam could not out but break out into uncontrolled laughter at Daelia's creative means of breaking the ice between her and Amala. It was very sweet to see she had planned this out in the way she had.

"Yeah…" he spoke as he wrapped his arm around Daelia as he escorted her back towards the house. "Bribes will probably work with that girl... they certainly have for me. It's really the only effective way to parent… so you're already starting better than I did."

Daelia could only reply with a nervous giggle.

**…**

* * *

**…**

"Foolish of her… What is so important that she would bring smugglers on board my ship… more importantly why would she bring this…vessel in its entirety? I wouldn't even use it as a fire ship. One glance at this hunk of rusk and the geth would develop humour and then we would have to rethink the war…"

Standing together in the observation deck overlooking docking bay A7, Leutnant Charlotte von Hoch remained silent as she watched her Captain fume with disgust at the eyesore scraping the deck of his Dreadnought. She wanted to chuckle at his comments, but she dared not. His tone reminded him of father in a state of disapproval, and if there was one thing one did not do, it was laugh in Jochen von Hoch's company when he was mad.

It took two recovery tow ships to drag the 40 metre long light freighter that crossed through the Ontaria relay about two hours prior. The vessel was hit with an EMP blast and boarded by a team. This was not unheard of. It was standard operating procedures. What made this unique was that instead of leaving it to either the Mandate Marine Force or the Raumstreitflotte marines assigned to the _Vengeance of Rannoch_, this time it was led by Captain Raan's executive officer Lieutenant Commander Cale'Manar.

It appeared that Cale was as ambitious as Charlotte was and clearly wanted the attention of her commander, who was focused on educating his pupil. She did not like Charlotte. Not one bit. Like back at the academy, Charlotte found herself under an intense scrutiny by her. Like having a human serving in a command position on one of the flagships of the quarian military was an offense. It was nice to see that the enlightened quarians were as petty as the humans they were teaching.

Charlotte did not mind the tension. She knew her place. If the Lieutenant Commander was so insecure that she felt it necessary to upstage and belittle a fresh out of academy student, then that was her prerogative, and it spoke volumes about her. Although Charlotte would not dare bring it up, she knew that it would not be long before Captain Raan took notice and dealt with it. Cale wasn't a bad officer in the slightest. Charlotte thought she handled command of the _Vengeance_ while the Captain was leading the attack on the station was commendable… she was just… flawed on a personal level.

"Captain Raan, a moment of your time, sir."

Sure enough it was the Lieutenant Commander's voice calling behind them. Turning away from the junky old boat rusting away in his hanger, Captain Raan glanced to Charlotte briefly before he fully rounded back to face his executive officer. His apparent displeasure by the eyesore the Lieutenant Commander brought on board became evident to her. Charlotte ignored the urge to smirk as the Lieutenant Commander crossed her arms behind her back, clearly frazzled by Captain Raan's visible displeasure.

"As you can see, we intercepted a freighter that came through the Ontaria Relay," Lieutenant Commander Manar spoke up as she stepped forward, gesturing to the vessel as she led the Captain and the Leutnant down the stairs to where ever she felt it necessary to drag them to.. "Payload appears to be turian military light armaments. The weapons have been confiscated and sent for inspection. Crew manifest suggests thirty members of batarian and turian races, but there is a slight… miss count on their part. I suggest that you should come and see for yourself."

Sitting there on the deck cross legged, virtually ignoring the squad sized detail with their rifles aimed only centimetres from him was a rather large red armoured krogan. His face terribly scarred by what appeared to be ancient lacerations from a bladed weapon. The krogan appeared almost bored by the display of strength. Frowning, Captain Raan raised his hand. The guard detail raised their weapons away from the krogan and stepped back in unison, allowing a modicum of space for the giant alien.

The alien huffed. Breaking his self-imposed silence, it stood up and tilted its head to each side, cracking its neck. The krogan bared a row of teeth at Raan but it was not as menacing as Charlotte thought it would be. It was almost as though the alien was grinning sardonically at the quarian. It was an expression that Captain Raan did not return.

"Nice ship you got here," the krogan rumbled out in a gravelly tone, his head turning to scan the cargo bay. "One of a kind?"

Captain Raan crossed his arms.

"No." Captain Raan replied briskly. Grabbing the datapad from out of the Lieutenant Commander's hands, he added. "Why are you on this Freighter when the crew manifest doesn't list you, smuggler?"

The Krogan glanced behind him and to the dozen batarians and turians with their hands on their hands. He barked out a small laugh and turned back to the Captain, the Lieutenant Commander and the Lieutenant. He looked offended by Captain Raan's suggestion that he was one of the wretches.

"Do I _look_ like a smuggler to you?" the krogan growled at the Captain sardonically. "I got a job offer some time back. Hitched a ride to Ontaria Station... Didn't know it was under new management, though-"

The sound of gunfire cut the krogan off. Charlotte glanced up and found that the security detail covering the prisoners had decided to enact Standard Operating Procedure and summarily tied up most of the loose ends. It was enough of a display to make even the krogan give pause. The alien turned back to face the unblinking Captain Raan, his face contorted into an expression that appeared as though it was reassessing both the man standing over him and his situation.

"This station was always ours to begin with, built and maintained with quarian taxpayer credits," Captain Raan informed the krogan plainly. "It was only a matter of cleaning the trash that collected on it before we assumed direct command… now then, are you going to tell me your identity, or should I get on with the business at hand?"

The krogan remained silent and slowly, oddly, he begun to laugh a mirthless chuckle. The alien stood up finally. It was only a few inches taller than the Captain, who stepped back and pushed Charlotte right behind him, his hand resting on his sidearm holster. As solid under threat as Captain Raan as, he was by no means a fool when it came to being within an arm's length of a krogan.

"It's been a long time since I've seen a quarian not hiding in an environmental suit, and I have been around quite a few of your kind before," the krogan informed the Captain in a low reflective voice. "Usually you idiots are artists, poets… or engineers… Shit, I'm old enough to have seen your ancestors at war… but this…"

The krogan glanced back to line of corpses being prepared for disposal.

"You are something different entirely, aren't you?"

Captain Raan remained gravely silence, likely to allow the gravity of the situation the alien was in to settle. But still the krogan did not reply to the question of the captain asked earlier. Instead its eyes turned from the Captain and instead directed its curiosity over to Charlotte. The krogan's mouth opened again in its strange grimace. It did not seem so particularly thrilled with the sight of Charlotte. When one considered the historical context, it made sense why the krogan was suddenly so angered, _disturbed_ even by what he was seeing.

"So… I see history _does_ repeat itself," the krogan growled. "Tell me, girl. Do you have any idea how in the _wrong_ these quarians are for uplifting your race?"

Glancing briefly to her Captain, who nodded his permission to address the prisoner, Charlotte was about to reply when she remembered that the krogan would not be fitted with human language translation software. That wasn't going to stop her reply so quickly however. Swallowing the blood in her mouth and quickly washing her teeth with her tongue, Charlotte stepped forward.

"I am from a mixed species family," Charlotte replied to the remark in her khelish, stunning the krogan. "The anguish of the quarian exile runs deep in my family line -be they member human or quarian. I stand here proud to be in the first wave against the geth… or against whatever criminal species that would stand in the way of the ancestral _right_ to Rannoch and the destruction of the geth mistake."

She expected the krogan to respond well to the words she banged out at it. It was, after all, a krogan and everything she learned of their race told her that war and vengeance would earn its respect, or at least offer some form of acknowledgment that they were in the right.

This krogan did not look impressed in the slightest.

"So when your _ancestral right_ has been accomplished, what then for your immature species? Do you believe they will ever see you as anything more than soldiers to their unending grievances? Do you actually think that they would invite you sit at the same table as the rest of them?" the krogan replied to her in a low, tired tone. It was as if this was an old tale for him. Shaking his head he added. "No, you will _never_ be seen as an equal… not really. If you are lucky, then perhaps they won't have to sterilize your race when you learn to speak with your own voice instead of mimicking what _they_ want you to say."

The krogan gestured to the Captain expressly. Captain Raan remained dead silent. It was clear he didn't like what the krogan had said. The krogan continued to stare at Charlotte in an attempt to drive its point across. Charlotte would not give it that satisfaction. The alien spoke lies and dug into its own history to create a disharmony between the cousin races. The quarians would _never_ stoop to the level of the Council.

Exhaling, the krogan ceased staring at Charlotte and turned to Captain Raan once again. He glanced to the gathering of sentries behind the officers.

"So now then, quarian; what do you plan on doing with me?" the krogan questioned the Captain. "I remember the vanishing of the original Migrant Fleet. I presume you're here gearing up this region as a staging area for a new war against the geth… and that means you can't exactly let aliens escape and spread what they see to others."

Captain Raan inclined his head to one side.

"You are quite astute," he complimented the krogan. "My orders from High Command stand. You will be executed."

There was no change in demeanour from the krogan. He _still_ appeared bored by the declaration.

"I thought so. Well, get on with it then." The alien sighed to the captain. "…Killing you all is going to be a hassle, but I suppose taking this Dreadnought of yours as a prize will make it worth it."

The confident words of the krogan had been the only warning they got. With a bright blue flash, a massive force overwhelmed Charlotte, the Captain, Lieutenant Commander Manar and the closest guards, flinging the men and women all across the cargo bay. Charlotte landed hard on her face, a sickening crunch of her nose breaking and her vision flickered as she laid their physically stunned for a good while.

Dazed and groaning, her hand dabbing her bleeding face, Charlotte pulled herself up with a moan to see just what had hit her. Her eyes widened as she saw the krogan standing there with a blue shimmer coating it, it was bent over and grabbed the nearest rifle. The krogan… it was… no… it couldn't have been a biotic…

This was the first display of biotics which she had ever seen. Oh, she heard rumours that it was being experimented with by the quarians and the Wehrmacht, but that was just it –unsubstantiated rumours. Now here they were in the flesh. She faintly could make out the Captain standing up, his pistol drawn on the krogan and the sound of boots charging towards the krogan from the sentries unaffected by the alien's ability.

The alien raised its stolen weapon and took aim at Captain Raan, when it too was hit by a much more powerful wave of dark energy. It did not toss the krogan to one side as it had to Charlotte and the other, but instead it lifted the massive alien a good half a metre off the ground and suspended him there, immobilizing it right on the spot. The beast growled, and struggled, but it remained frozen still.

"Stand down, mercenary," a voice called from behind Charlotte. "This is all just a wild misunderstanding."

Her heart pounding out of fear, Charlotte turned her bloodied face to find Aria T'Loak approaching the fight at a causal pace, her expression impassive, bored even as her glowing hand remained outstretched to the krogan. It wasn't a wild fire of energy as the krogan's had been. This biotic display was honed like a perfect blade.

"Don't mind Wrex," Aria drolled out as she stepped in between Charlotte and Captain Raan dropping the blue haze just enough to uncover the rifle the krogan clutched. "He's mostly bluster until you _really_ anger him. He came at my invitation, as are the shipment of armaments of which I would kindly like returned as soon as possible."

Aria reached out and snatched the rifle away from the krogan, offering it to Captain Raan, who holstered his pistol and took it from her. Aria dropped the haze of biotic power and watched impassively as the krogan collapsed back to ground hitting his knees on the deck. Sputtering, the alien forced himself back on to his feet, ignoring the many rifles directed at him. He chuckled slightly and narrowed its eyes at Aria.

"Aleena…" the krogan muttered. "So… _you're _the infamous Aria T'Loak?"

Aria's reply only came in the form of an enigmatic smile. Like the two of them were sharing some sort of private joke which no one else was privy too. Charlotte couldn't care less as she swallowed her third mouthful of blood in an attempt not to disturb the Captain.

"What is the _meaning_ of this?" Captain Raan addressed the asari, his words carefully controlled. "I expressly forbade any contact outside this system… so you summon a krogan and a shipment of armaments?"

Aria held her yes on the krogan named Wrex.

"It occurred to me that I would not have much of a say over the army you will deploy to Omega on my behalf. I need certain personal objectives fulfilled; objectives which I cannot exactly entrust to the likes of your humans," Aria silkily answered the Captain, her expression annoyed by the Captain placing his authority over her so easily. "The krogan is here on my invitation to… _negotiate_ a contract for his services. I can't think of a better advisor and second-in-command then the only man who ever came close to killing me."

The krogan huffed.

"And I don't suppose I can back out of the contract negotiation even if I wanted to," the krogan named Wrex grumbled, earning quite a large smirk from the asari.

"Anymore unannounced arrivals and I can guarantee you my superiors will cut off the arrangement and annex the station entirely…" Captain Raan cut across the two of them sharply. "…and don't you forget either that we could have silenced you at any point in the past fifty years. This krogan's achievement is hardly surprising…"

Her head throbbing, Charlotte let out a low groan. As much as she willed herself not to speak, she could no longer ignore her state.

"-Permission to spit on the deck, Captain?" Charlotte requested in a daze interrupting the Skipper, her blood stained teeth revealed to the quarian. "I'm swallowing too much blood as it is."

Captain Raan broke his stare down with Aria and inspected his student with an expression of alarm. As soon as he nodded, Charlotte bent of over and drained a mouthful of blood between her feet. She did not notice the look of disgust and amusement on Aria and Wrex's faces respectively.

"Jesus Christ, why didn't you speak up soon?" Captain Raan chastised her, his hand reaching out to touch her back. "Lieutenant Commander, please escort Charlotte to the medical bay."

Faintly aware of Lieutenant Commander Manar wrapping her arms around the certainly concussed and bloodied Leutnant, Charlotte watched as the Captain left the asari and her new krogan second-in-command to their own devices. He had to update Command of the recent incident.

"I _hate_ quarians…" Charlotte faintly heard Aria mutter to the krogan. "I hate them so, _so_ much…"

**…**

* * *

**…**

**Figured it was time to introduce him to the series. All done now. Time to move on to Uplifted: The Grand Crusade.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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